


The Disappeared

by wewerkak



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: BAMF Danny "Danno" Williams, Blood and Violence, Bromance, Conspiracy, Gen, Hurt Danny "Danno" Williams, Hurt Steve McGarrett, Kidnapping, Presumed Dead, Rescue, Steve McGarrett & Danny "Danno" Williams Friendship, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 73,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27079603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewerkak/pseuds/wewerkak
Summary: (NOT a deathfic)Steve is tragically killed when his plane crashes on the way back home. Ten months later, Danny is still trying to block out the grief of his best friend's death. Until one day he receives a photo of Steve, with a message only Steve could've written. Determined to find the truth, Danny uncovers an international conspiracy and discovers there are powerful people who are prepared to kill to keep him, and everyone else in their way, silent.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set after season 10. But there are differences between the show's ending and mine as I began writing it before the actual ending.
> 
> I'd like to mention that English is not my native language so there might be some mistakes, which I apologize for.
> 
> So here it is. Enjoy the reading and please leave a review.

Steve McGarrett didn't know he had less than two hours to live when he walked into the building. It looked more like a truck stop than an airport. One old, concrete square with a mismatch of tiles on the floor, a wooden-beamed roof, but it wasn't an international airport and it served its purpose. In the remote, rural area of Africa, it was used only for the light aircraft service taking passengers to and from the capital of Galao.

The young woman behind the check-in area scanned the waiting room, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else but here. There was no queue, which was hardly surprising given that there was only one flight out of there all afternoon—a six-seater plane that would whisk Steve away. The woman smiled as he approached the desk.

"Nice to see you again, Commander."

After his first visit, she'd remembered his name. This part of the world didn't get many tourists now—the backpackers wanting to discover rural Africa were long gone, the safaris had never operated this far north, and the international reporters either didn't care or didn't dare risk it, so his white skin stood out amongst the darker tones of the locals.

Steve handed over his passport and smiled at her, but his heart wasn't in it. He was too busy thinking about getting home to Hawaii. Putting his plan into action. Escaping.

"Thank you, Adjoua." Steve remembered her name too.

"Going back home?" She bent over her desk and filled in Steve's details on a form.

'Yes.' He glanced out of the glass windows to his left, to the small plane already on the runway. Two passengers were climbing aboard, a young man and a woman. A member of the airport staff was filling the plane with fuel.

In a few hours, he'd be back with his ohana. With Danny. He'd tell him everything. They'd work out what to do next.

Adjoua smiled again as she held out a boarding pass for his flight. "Have a good journey. I'll see you again soon."

He nodded, although it was unlikely he'd ever see this place again. Not after what he was about to do.

Steve took the pass from her and walked towards the doors that led to the runway carved out of the African bush. He was almost at the door when a hand clamped onto his shoulder.

"Commander McGarrett, we need to speak with you," a voice said, firm and insistent. A shiver of anxiety and even fear coursed through Steve. His heart pounded.

They knew.

Steve swallowed quickly, turned around and came face-to-face with a medium-sized man with black hair, greying at the edges. He wore suit trousers and a short-sleeved checked shirt. His skin was dark and smooth. Either side of him were two taller men in black police uniforms, their hands resting on handguns in holsters at their waists.

"Is there a problem?" Steve said, forcing an affable smile. "I'm going to miss my flight." He tilted his head towards the plane outside.

"The plane can wait." Checked Shirt smiled. "Come with us. Let's clear a few things up." He swung his arm towards a doorway on the opposite side of the check-in desk. It was a casual gesture, his voice was soft and friendly, but this wasn't a request.

Steve nodded, sweat pricking at his forehead. He thought about taking them out and running, but that would be futile. He'd be shot dead before he got halfway to the front doors. And in this part of Africa, where corruption and incompetence were rife, they could make his body disappear easily. He needed to play along. Deny everything. He could still get out of here.

Checked Shirt led the way towards the wooden door. Steve followed, the two officers crowding behind him. With one push on his back, he found himself in a cramped office. A window was open behind the desk, but it did little to cool the stifling African mid-day heat oozing inside.

Checked Shirt rounded the desk, sat down. He nodded to his colleagues. Steve glanced behind him at the two officers who stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking the doorway.

One of them reached out and took Steve's duffel bag from his hand.

"Empty your pockets, Commander," Checked Shirt said.

Steve hesitated for a moment, eyeing his bag. Then he did as requested, rummaging in his cargo pants for his wallet and phone before placing them on the desk.

Checked Shirt took Steve's phone and handed it to the guard with the duffel bag before nodding to the other guard, who roughly pulled Steve's arms upwards to pat him down. When he was satisfied Steve had nothing on his person, he stopped.

Another nod to the guards from Checked Shirt sent the uniformed men out of the room.

"Sit, please." Checked Shirt indicated to the plastic chair on the opposite side of the desk.

Steve sat and placed his hands in his lap, trying to appear casual. He was used to working under pressure. This was no different, he told himself. "Look, I have no idea what this is about."

The man sat back in his chair, interlaced his fingers and placed them on his stomach. The friendly smile was still in place. "Let's stop with the pretense, shall we? I know it was you. I know you were there. And I know what you did."

"I'm sorry, but I really don't have a clue what you're talking about." Steve shook his head.

Checked Shirt sighed gently as if Steve was an errant school child and he really didn't want to discipline him. "What equipment do you have?"

"Equipment? I don't have any. All my equipment is at the hospital." His gaze drifted to the open window. Beyond that was bushland, a small one-lane dusty track that led to the town, to the makeshift hospital, to escape.

"I have your phone, but do you have a tablet, a video recorder, laptop?" Checked Shirt asked. "They will find it in your bag anyway."

"There's a laptop and video recorder. In my bag. But I really don't know what–"

"Are there copies anywhere?"

Steve gave a laugh of disbelief and thought it sounded convincing to his ears. "Copies of what? I think you must've mistaken me for a journalist. I work for–"

Checked Shirt held a hand up to silence Steve, staring at him like a snake eyeing up a mouse. "I know who you are." He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, his dark brown eyes boring into Steve's. "This is what's going to happen. You will get on that plane, and you will leave. You will never return to this country. And you will never speak of what you did or what you saw. You are being given a chance, Commander. But if you disobey these instructions, there will be consequences. Do you understand?"

Steve's heart rate hit treble figures. "Look, I really don't know–"

"Your sister. Mary, right? She is very pretty, isn't she?" He slowly licked his lips. "If anything should happen to her, it would be a great shame. A very great shame. Don't you think?" He tilted his head, his voice still calm and soft, the smile still in place, which made the threat even scarier for Steve.

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, picturing his little sister, fear and anger rippling through him. He knew these people didn't do empty threats.

"Do you understand?" Checked Shirt asked. 

Steve opened his eyes. "Yes, I understand." The door opened behind them. One officer walked towards the desk and placed Steve's bag on it before nodding at Checked Shirt.

Checked Shirt stood and handed Steve the bag. "I'm glad you see sense. Now, let's go. You have a plane to catch."

Steve took his bag and walked past the other officer now stationed outside the door. He took one look behind him and saw Checked Shirt sit back at the desk, a mobile phone to his ear. As he strode towards the glass door to the runway, the officers trailing behind him, he clenched his free hand into a fist to stop it from shaking. The place was empty now, no sign of any staff, apart from the man outside still filling the plane with fuel.

Steve slipped through the door, not daring to look behind him. He tried to breathe slowly, tried to calm his racing pulse as he walked up the steps to the plane.

When he got inside, he spotted the man and woman who were waiting in their seats, chatting softly. He sat in an empty seat in front of them and looked out of the window, towards the airport. Through the small window, he watched one of the police officers watching the plane. Steve glanced down and saw the man who was refueling remove the pump from the plane and nod in the officer's direction. The officer nodded back, then turned around and walked away. Checked Shirt emerged from the office and the officer spoke with him, just a brief exchange before they headed to the front door of the airport building that led to the dusty track into town.

Steve wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his mind racing.

Exactly one hour and eleven minutes later, as the plane was flying over a dense area of bush, all radio communication with the plane was lost. It never arrived at its destination.


	2. Chapter 2

It was just an envelope. Brown, cheap, the same as any other. The kind used by millions of people every day. But the contents had the power to detonate shards of pain through Danny's chest like an atomic bomb.

Danny almost didn't open it. He scooped it up with the rest of the post and brought it into the kitchen. A hundred things ran through his head as he dumped it on the counter, then picked up a glass of water, downing it. He needed to make his mind focus somehow, to finish the yet unsolved homicide case Five-0 had. Filling the glass with more cold water, he was already thinking about what will be the next steps to take in order to come another bit closer to their suspect.

That's what he did all the time, these days, think about work. Throwing himself into it like a mad man stopped him from thinking about Steve and the memories and hollowness left inside him. He practiced a lot of denial. Maybe it wasn't healthy, but he didn't really care. It was the only way to get himself through the minutes and hours.

Danny glanced at the clock. Six forty-five am. He should be at the HQ by seven. But he didn't leave the house. For some reason, he picked up the post.

He flicked through a white envelope – bank statement – a brown envelope – bill – white, with the name of a loan company on the front that he tossed into the bin without opening. Then he came to another brown one. Maybe it was the fact his name and address had been handwritten in block capital letters that piqued his curiosity. Most of the mail had computer-generated labels or window envelopes that showed his postal details.

He ripped the envelope open. As he slid the photo out, it didn't really register what he was seeing initially. Yes, of course, Danny knew it was a photo of his best friend, but he couldn't comprehend what that meant for a moment.

Danny frowned, his heart slamming to a sudden stop. What the hell? Why would someone send him a photo of Steve?

But before he could even think of possible answers, his gaze was already drinking in the details. Steve's hair was longer than he'd ever seen it before, curling up at the edges of his shirt collar. A beard covered a face that was thinner than Danny remembered. He sat at an outside café table, holding a newspaper across his chest.

He brought the photo closer to his eyes, studied the name of the newspaper, read the date on it. Two days earlier. It felt like Danny's brain was melting inside his head. That couldn't be right. Steve was dead.

Danny slumped down onto a chair, his legs suddenly refusing to hold him upright. The photo slid from his grasp and rested face up on the kitchen counter. He leaned his elbows on the counter and pressed his hands to his lips as a prickle of a surprise and a shock.

What was this? Someone's idea of a sick joke? The more he stared, the more he noticed other things. It was obviously a selfie, Steve's arm outstretched before him holding the phone. There were flecks of grey in his hair that had never been there before. Lines graced the corners of his eyes. He looked older, but… how could that be even possible?

He tried to think of the rational possibilities of how someone could've got hold of this and sent it to him, but he couldn't make sense of it. He licked his lips, his mouth dry, eyes wide and fixated on that piece of shiny paper.

Why would someone send this to him? For what purpose – to hurt him? If so, then mission accomplished.

Tears welled in his eyes. The loss he'd been trying so hard to block out suddenly hit him again with all the force of a wrecking ball. If Danny was honest with himself, and he didn't like to be – he had to admit that the gaping hole Steve had left in his life was still as fresh as the day he'd heard about the plane crash.

He wiped the tears away with the back of his trembling hand, trying to think why anyone would do this to him. Then he had another thought. Maybe there was a letter inside the envelope. Something that would explain what was going on.

He picked it up and swept his hand through its insides. Empty. He looked at the back of the envelope, hoping for a return address, but there was nothing there at all. It was postmarked Bern with yesterday's date. He picked up the photo again and turned it over. On the back of it, someone had written a message.

_I need your help, Danno._

_I will contact you again soon._

_You can't tell anyone about this._

A shard of ice spiked his heart. The familiar nickname only three people in the whole world were allowed to use. His kids, and his soul brother.

Danny stared at the photo again. Steve had sent it to him.

And yet, that was impossible.

* * *

Danny parked his Camaro in the car park at the front of the headquarters, totally unable to recall the journey there. Too many thoughts had been crowding his head for him to take in the roads busy with traffic.

On the way upstairs he tried to think about what needed to be done. Half of his brain was working on necessities. The paperwork that needed to be done, the witnesses that need to be questioned again, the call to the Governor with the update on the case. The other half was on the photo and the message. Writing Danny recognized as Steve's as he'd seen it hundreds of times.

He passed by the group of his team with a fake smile and a greeting and headed straight to his office. This didn't make any sense. It was insane to think Steve had sent it.

He sat in his chair behind his desk and stared into thin air, his head spinning. What was he supposed to do? Was someone just playing a nasty joke? Or was his partner still alive and in trouble? Would he send another message soon?

No, of course there would be no message. _Steve was dead._

 _But they never found the plane,_ a voice in his head repeated.

 _So what?_ Another voice said. If Steve was alive, where has he been for the last ten months? And why was he only contacting him now? Why all the mystery? No. If Steve was alive, he'd have contacted him. He would've come home. Unless he couldn't for some reason. Maybe something bad had happened and he was captured, managed to escape and now he was on the run, asking Danny for help. Or maybe-

Danny shook his head back to clarity. He'd been through this before. A false hope won't make him feel any better. Steve was gone and someone else must've sent the photo. Someone who wants to hurt him.

He opened the laptop on his desk and typed in _plane crash West Africa._

It only brought up twelve hits, which contained the brief report Danny had read after the crash had happened and it was simply repeated statement in various online newspapers. It was hardly big news, and Danny assumed it was a repeat of the official statement from the government.

_Four people are presumed dead after a Beechcraft Bonanza light aircraft is believed to have crashed in dense jungle on Friday. The plane had been on its way to the capital when it disappeared from GPS tracking systems and radio contact was lost. Authorities do not believe there are any survivors._

_At this time, the government doesn't consider it safe to attempt to locate and recover the wreckage due to an uprising of rebel militia in the immediate area._

There were no new articles. No reports telling him the plane had been found. Nothing that mentioned some miraculous news of survivors who'd suddenly appeared.

Danny sat back in the chair and stared at the screen blankly, paralyzed with shock.

A knock sounded on his glass door before Lou opened it and walked in, holding a cup of coffee.

"Good morning," Lou grinned, then gave him an odd look. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Danny just stared at him, his mouth half hanging open. A ghost. Yes. Lou had no idea how spot on he was. But a ghost couldn't write messages and send photos.

Lou walked towards his desk and put the cup down in front of Danny. "I saw you rushing past the rest of us and thought you'd want this."

"Yeah. Um… thanks," Danny made no move to take it. His hands were trembling so much, he'd have trouble picking it up, even if he wanted to.

Lou frowned, the lines on his forehead increasing. "What's wrong, Danny?"

"Um…" he thought about telling him what had happened. But the message stabbed at his brain. _You can't tell anyone about this._ The words died on his lips.

Lou came around the desk and looked at the laptop, seeing the old news reports. Crouching over Danny, he put his arm on his shoulder. "I know you miss him. We all do. And I know some days must be harder than others."

Not knowing what to say, Danny just nodded, letting his older colleague think it was just a case of grief hitting him again.

Lou walked back to the front sat on the edge of the desk, his eyes scanning Danny's face with sympathy. "You should take a day off. We can handle it here."

Danny shook his head. "There's too much to do. And I need to finish the paperwork. I need to…" he trailed off, his gaze straying to the headlines on the screen.

"Yes, but maybe you just need a bit of time out. I mean, you were back at work a week after his death. I know you felt like it would help you stop thinking about things, but maybe it was too soon. It's like you've been on a mission to just keep going, and there's bound to be some moments when you step back and everything catches up with you."

Danny knew his friend was right. He didn't live his normal life anymore. Even his kids thought he was not the same person after his partner's death. Danny poured everything he had into work to stop himself from falling. It was the only crutch he had to keep him upright.

"Seriously, we've got this. Go home, take some _you_ time. This'll all be here tomorrow," Lou suggested.

"Yes, but I have to-"

"No you don't," Lou stopped him. "I'll do it. We've got this, man."

Danny hesitated for a moment. He knew it would be impossible to concentrate on anything properly after this.

Lou looked deep into Danny's eyes, concern in his face. "You don't have to deal with everything on your own."

Danny nodded, knowing Lou was right. "Okay, just one day off."

"That's settled, then. I'll see you later." Lou pulled Danny up from his chair, turned him toward the entrance, hands on his shoulders, and walked him towards the door.

"Thanks," Danny mumbled.

"It's nothing. And if you need to talk, you know I'm always here."

In the past ten months, Danny had never cried in front of his friends or family. He'd never rambled on about Steve and how unfair life was and how much he missed him. He kept things inside and let them fester away. Unlike Steve, Danny never had a problem to open up and talk about his feelings. Until his partner was gone. He couldn't talk about Steve. He found it extremely hard to open up and bare his soul to people, even to his ohana. And this was something he definitely couldn't tell them.

Not until he knew what the hell was going on.

* * *

Danny drove back home again in a blur. Of course this wasn't real. It was out-of-this-world crazy for him to believe Steve was alive and had sent that photo to him. There had to be an explanation. But the irrational part of his brain ignored all that, and a tiny spark of hope blossomed inside.

He sat at the kitchen counter, pulled the photograph out of his pocket, stared at it. What was happening? Why couldn't he just come home if he was alive? Why not call from wherever he'd been for the last ten months? Maybe he'd been in hospital in Africa, pulled from the wreckage of the plane in a remote area with no phones or internet. But then how did he manage to take a photo and send it through the post? How did he get to Switzerland?

Nothing made sense. Maybe there was another message, a clue somewhere on the photo. He looked at the newspaper Steve was holding and read the headline - _Two Most Successful Chocolate Companies to Merge Into One._ Nothing about the plane crash.

Danny forced his brain to work harder. What's going on? Did Steve at some point survive the plane crash and go to Bern?

Never mind how. The question he couldn't shake was why. Why didn't he contact him until now?

Danny stood and paced the floor, trying to make sense of something so senseless. Part of him felt overwhelming anger. How could Steve do this to him? Let him think he was dead. What kind of a person did that to their family?

Yes, things had been difficult for Steve in the past years and he seemed to be so lost in the last couple of months before he'd left. But he'd left to find peace, the purpose of life. He was done, fed up with all the drama and mystery in his life. So why pretend his death?

Danny shook his head. He wouldn't do that to him. They shared a special bond. There were more than friends, partners, brothers. Steve would never have put him through the last ten months believing he was dead on purpose.

As bizarre as it seemed, the photo and the message all pointed to Steve being alive. And he said he needed help. Danny couldn't just sit here and wait for him to contact him . He'd go mad in the meantime.

He thought about calling Lou and telling him what had happened, but Steve's words permeated his head again.

_You can't tell anyone about this._

He still didn't understand what had happened, what was happening now, but somehow, he had to try to find out the truth. Whatever it took.

* * *

Khalfani Iwu sat back in his softly padded chair, smoking the expensive cigar. He exhaled a cloud of grey smoke out slowly, savoring the taste. Each cigar had a price tag of $700, containing aged tobacco. And they said Africa was a backward place! You could get anything here for a price.

He surveyed the plush garden in front of him from his veranda and took a sip of the finest cognac. He liked the fine things in life. Maybe he'd sold his soul to the devil, but the devil paid well. He almost laughed at his own joke but settled for a wide grin instead. His life was good. Everything was going to plan.

As a child, he constantly found himself getting into trouble. Stealing, bullying the other children, it was all a buzz to him. When his father had insisted he join the police force to control his increasingly criminal behavior, he laughed in his face. He didn't like being told what to do, following orders. He liked to be the one in control. Even his first name meant - destined to rule.

But as the job progressed, he realized that the benefits that came with joining the police were better than wasting time with petty crime. He made more money in bribes than he ever did selling stolen goods. And as he'd worked his way up, the power of his position was the most intoxicating thing in the world. Like an addict, he craved more. He could do exactly as he pleased, and it was all legal.

He was now head of the secret police and the president's right-hand man. But the president was getting lazy and greedy, and Khalfani had always been cunning. He'd learned over the years that time and patience were the keys to getting what you wanted. And it was his time now.

His thoughts were annoyingly interrupted by the arrival of Chief Inspector Jumah. Jumah stood in his full uniform, a sheen of sweat from the heat covering his forehead. "We have a problem, sir."

"Problems are just a challenge waiting to happen," Khalfani said in a calm manner.

"The plane crash."

"What about it?"

"Our rebels found it. In the middle of dense bush."

"So? It's too late to save them now." Khalfani threw back his head and laughed.

Jumah cleared his throat.

When it was obvious Jumah hadn't told his boss everything he'd wanted to say, Khalfani snapped, "Get on with it."

"When the plane went down, it stayed almost intact. The bodies were still inside, strapped into the seats."

"And why do I care about this?" Khalfani was bored with this conversation already.

"Because there were only two passengers and a pilot on the plane,"

Khalfani looked up at Jumah sharply, frowning. "What?"

"The American man. McGarrett. He was not on the plane."

"That's not possible!" Khalfani shot out of his chair and stood face-to-face with Jumah. "You saw him get on that plane, didn't you?"

Jumah swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

"So…" Khalfani was thinking. "Maybe a predator took his remains. Leopard or lion."

Jumah shook his head. "There was no trace of him. No trace of his bones, and other bodies are still there. And there was no sign of his luggage. He wasn't on the plane."

Khalfani's eyes bulged from his head. "So where the hell did he go?"

Jumah swallowed nervously. "I don't know."

"Well, find out! We cannot risk this coming out. Not now, not when I'm so close. Do you understand?" His usually calm face began to crack. Everything he'd worked towards, every goal he'd head, could be ruined if they didn't find Steve McGarrett.


	3. Chapter 3

Danny paced around the kitchen, unable to think clearly. He had to find out the truth about Steve. He had to know, whatever the truth was. But the thing was, he had no idea where to start. He tried to sum up what the government officials have told him.

Steve had got on the plane and was on his way home. The plane had crashed due to what they said was a bird strike and subsequent engine failure. It had never been found. Still… if Steve was alive, had they lied to him? And if so, why?

Then Danny had a thought. After the plane crashed, he'd been in contact with Lucy and Eric Revell, the parents of Kim and Jason Revell, siblings who were also on the plane and had been backpacking around Africa during their gap year, until the trouble in West Africa got so bad, they decided to move on somewhere else.

Lucy and Eric knew what Danny was going through, and they had stayed in touch, trying to support each other through their mutual grief. If there were any survivors, they would've heard something. He had to try and call them.

Danny picked up the phone straight away. It rang loudly in his ear as the international dialing kicked in. The Revells were British but had retired and moved to France. He paced the floor, impatiently waiting for Lucy to pick up.

"Hi, Danny," she said, her voice sounding brighter than the last time Danny had spoken to her a few months ago. "How are you doing?"

"Um… not so good at the moment."

"I know what you mean. Some days, it hits you really bad, doesn't it? Just when you think things are finally getting easier."

"Yes. But listen… have you heard anything recently from the officials in Africa?"

There was a moment's pause before Lucy asked in a surprised voice, "Like what?"

_Like your daughter and son are still alive?_

"Just any new information. I mean, have you heard that they found the plane or anything?"

"No, we haven't heard a thing. We're not expecting to. When we spoke with the officials on the phone, they said it was too dangerous to try to recover the bodies because of the rebels. And the situation out there is a lot worse now, apparently."

Danny exhaled with frustration. Of course not. "I'm sorry."

"If I do hear anything, you'll be the first person I call. I want to bring them home too. Have a proper burial, as I'm sure you do."

"Yeah. Look, I've got to go. Sorry to bother you."

"You're not a bother. You're always welcome to call, you know that."

Danny thanked her again and hung up. There was one other thing he could try. If Steve had been still alive all this time, then it meant he'd survived the crash. It sounded impossible, but if someone could survive a plane crash, it was Steve. Danny wouldn't accept defeat so easily. There had to be a logical reason for everything. What that reason was was totally escaping him. But maybe the person who had sent Steve to Africa knew.

Sabrina Lawson was the director of Health International. Danny had met her only once, when she'd visited Steve in the HQ about a couple of days before he'd left.

A memory slipped into Danny's head. It was Friday. The afternoon sunlight danced on the clouds and Danny was in a good mood because he would spend a nice weekend with both his kids, spoiling them. It was an easy day in the office and the team was almost ready to go home, when Steve, whose mind was somewhere else, received a phone call.

"McGarrett," Steve answered the phone and his lips curled into a smile when the person on the other end said who'd been calling.

"Sabrina, what a pleasant surprise," he said, turning on his heel ad heading to his office. He closed the door and talked to the mysterious woman for good ten minutes before emerging from the doorway.

Danny stood outside, leaning on the smart table, hands in the pockets and a big grin on his face. "Who is Sabrina?" he asked, his interest piqued.

"An old friend of mine."

"Right, a friend," Danny repeated, not entirely convinced. "I saw how you smiled when you answered the phone."

Steve looked at the blonde detective, rolling his eyeballs. "Yes, a friend, Danny."

They were about to leave when Junior had suggested they could grab a drink together, but Steve refused.

"Actually, I'm about to meet someone," he said and looked right at Danny, expecting his friend to comment on it.

"Huh, let me guess," Danny didn't let him down. "Sabrina."

After all Steve had been through in the past few years, he seemed to be a little lost at that moment. And after they had a chat about what had been going on with him lately, Steve admitted he'd been thinking about doing something else, something for himself. Maybe try to move on, try to find peace, the meaning of life. So the idea of him having a date, trying to live a normal life, actually made Danny smile. Maybe that was what his friend needed.

"It's not a date," Steve denied. "And I have to go. See you soon, guys. Enjoy the drinks," he said and walked out of the glass doorway.

Danny had no idea what was going on back then. Had he known, would he do something differently? Would he try to spend some time with his friend, talk to him about his problems a little more? Try to talk him out of the idea of leaving everything behind and go where this woman asked him to go? Probably. But it didn't matter anymore. Because he didn't do anything. He'd spent his weekend exactly as planned and he'd loved every minute of it. He didn't bother to pick up the phone to check on his friend, assuming he was okay. That weekend was for him and his kids only.

He didn't see Steve again until Monday morning. For the first time in years, Steve woke up late. Danny watched him intently while drinking coffee in silence. Steve's behavior had been off that day. The brooding look in his eyes and zoning out every so often had caught Danny's attention. The head of the team didn't even react to Danny's questions about the date with the mysterious friend, didn't argue about it at all. As if his mind was somewhere else.

And then Sabrina showed up in the HQ, introduced herself and Steve took her into his office, where they've talked for a good hour. As expected, Steve denied anything was going on.

Danny waited for her and the rest of the team leave and decided to pop a question despite knowing the answer. "Are you all right? You've been acting weird."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Steve replied without thinking, no emotion in his voice.

"If you need to talk-"

"I'm fine, Danny," Steve repeated, this time his voice was loud and firm.

Something was off, Danny could see it, but he didn't push him. But then another day came, and another, and Steve's mood didn't seem to be any better. Danny was ready to make his friend talk regardless he wanted to or not, in his own interest.

After another long and stressful day at work, he climbed up the stairway and knocked on the half-open doorway of Steve's bedroom. "Steve? Can I come in?"

It took Steve a few seconds to reply. "Yeah, come in."

Danny pushed the door open, expecting to find his friend broken and sad, just like he was during the last couple of days. But he found himself staring at Steve standing above the small, black duffel bag, which was about half-full, and a couple of shirts and shorts, folded on the bed, ready to be packed.

"What's this?" Danny asked, a shiver of cold running down his spine. "You going somewhere?"

Releasing a long sigh, Steve nodded. There was a hint of guilt in his eyes. "Yes."

That's all? Just yes? There was something about the way Steve said it that Danny didn't like. He frowned, crossing the arms on his chest. "Will you explain? Or am I not supposed to know?" he asked, his voice offended.

Steve took a breath before answering. "I'm going to Africa."

Danny wasn't sure if he'd heard right. It took him by surprise. "You… you're what?"

"I'm going to Africa," Steve repeated, as if was the most normal thing in the world.

It was unusual for Danny to remain speechless, but that sentence managed to take his breath away for a moment. He looked into Steve's eyes, expecting him to say it was a joke or something, but he was dead serious.

"I would've told you," Steve said. "But it's actually a last-minute decision."

The blood began to boil in Danny's veins. "When were you going to tell me, huh? In the doorway? Or would you leave me another letter?"

"Danny-"

"No, just don't," Danny stopped him. "You can't just pack your bag and say you're going to another continent, Steven. Why? I know you've had a tough couple of years, but we'll figure it out, okay?"

"I need this, buddy," Steve's voice changed, there was a hint of sadness in it. "We've talked about this already. I need a change. A break from all this. And I have an opportunity now. Just a small favor for Sabrina that will benefit me as well."

"A favor? What are you gonna do in there?"

"Sabrina and another friend of mine work for the Health International. They set up the medical centers all over West Africa, and they're kinda short on volunteers."

"A medical center? You're not a doctor."

"No, but I can still help with other stuff," Steve objected. "And take some _me_ time while there. You know, clear my head a bit."

Danny shook his head, still unable to believe it. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow. I spoke to the Governor already."

"So you spoke to the Governor but not me, that's perfect!" Danny barked, the emotions going over the roof.

"Danno, please-"

"You are coming back, right?" Danny locked his gaze with Steve's.

Steve forced a smile. "Of course I'm coming back, buddy. I'm not running away. Just taking a break. It'll be a couple of weeks, maybe a month or two tops. And I'll stay in touch. I promise."

By the look in Steve's eyes, Danny had known his friend meant it. Steve planned to come back home. But he never did.

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, shaking the memory away from his mind. He needed to focus. He had to find the truth about his best friend.

He found Sabrina's contact number.

"Sabrina Lawson," she answered with a soft voice.

"Hi Sabrina, this is Danny Williams. Five-0."

"Oh, hello, Danny. How are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks." That was obviously a lie. Danny was in turmoil. Everything he thought he knew had turned upside down in the space of a few hours. Before she could say anything else, he asked, "Have you heard anything from Africa recently?"

"No, I'm afraid not. Unfortunately, it doesn't look likely we'll be able to recover Steve's remains in the near future. The rebel uprising appears to be getting worse."

"So they still haven't found the bodies, did they?"

There was a moment of quiet on the other side. "No." She paused for another moment, and when she spoke, there was sympathy in her voice. "Look I know what you're going through. I know you're still hoping there might be survivors but we've talked about this already. I'm sorry, Danny. No one could've survived that crash. My contact out there says the plane would've been crushed."

"Can I speak to them? Can you give me their number?"

"Well, yes. But are you sure you want to put yourself through this? I don't want to sound harsh, but Steve is dead, Danny. Maybe it would be best for you to try to move on."

It did sound harsh to him. But in the position she held, he guessed she was used to getting terrible news about death on a daily basis, maybe talking about it so dispassionately was her way of blocking it out.

"I just need the number."

"Okay. Hold a moment." A few seconds of waiting had turned into a minute.

"Do you have a pen?" she said, finally getting back to him.

"Yes."

"It's a mobile number," she read it out.

He scribbled it down. "Thank you."

"His name is Adama. He worked closely with Steve, setting up the medical center, getting government permissions, organizing supplies. Adama is a great help to us making sure things run smoothly at the center."

"Thanks. Um… Did Steve mention anything… any problems of any kind?"

"Problems?" She sighed softly. "We go into war-torn countries and deal with horrific things on a daily basis. There are always problems."

"Yes, I understand that. But did he ever say anything… I don't know…" he cast around for the right words to say without giving any of his suspicions away. "Did he ever mention anything specific?"

"No, of course not."

"When did you last speak to Steve before the crash?"

"Well, let me think now… we didn't speak on an everyday basis. It must've been at some point in the second week when they gave me a report."

Danny tried to think of Steve's friend's name, the doctor who was in charge, but he only remembered the first name. "Do you also have a phone number for Pete? I'm sorry, I can't remember his surname."

"Pete Martin? Of course."

Another short pause, then she gave him the other number. Danny thanked Sabrina and hung up.

He called Pete first. There was no answer, which didn't surprise him. He would be working in the makeshift medical center that Steve had helped set up, probably too busy to answer the phone. Danny left a message on his voicemail and called Adama. Again, no answer, and no facility to leave a message.

He couldn't keep still as he waited for the phone to call, but at the same time, he couldn't concentrate on anything. He had to do something to get rid of the nervous energy surging through him. His chest was so tight and his heart kept fluttering irregularly. If he sat there, he'd go mad.

Heading into a shower he took off his shirt and hoped for the hot water to wash some of his pain away. It didn't work. There was this weird feeling like he had to concentrate on his breathing to draw some air into his lungs. In. Out. In. Out. He wanted to clear his mind, but couldn't. Instead, images of Steve flooded in, bloody and smashed up, crawling out of the mangled plane wreckage. But when he tried to picture what might have happened next, he drew a blank that made him want to scream.

It was unlikely any survivors would make it far, even someone like Steve. The officials said it was too dangerous to go out to that part of the country because the area was used as a base for the rebels who wanted to overthrow the government. Steve had told him about the rebels during one of their calls. About the reports of the villages being massacred and set fire to, innocent people being raped and murdered.

When Danny was there to meet the officials, they showed him a satellite map of the area where the plane lost contact. It was in the middle of nowhere. It was all thick trees and bush. If anyone managed to survive, which would've been highly unlikely, they would've been killed by the rebels. Or eaten by a lion or died of dehydration before they made it to the nearest village.

Rebels. It had to be the only explanation. Steve must've been captured for some reason. The idea of Steve being captured by the rebels after the crash made him sick. He'd heard what those people are like. They had no mercy and didn't hesitate to kill even women and children. They didn't take prisoners. Steve would've been dead in a matter of hours if they took him. So this option was out too. Then what the hell had happened?

He got out of the shower and he was about to button up his shirt when the ringing of his phone brought him back from the dark thoughts. Pete's name flashed on the screen.

"Hi. Thanks for calling me back," Danny said breathlessly.

"Hello, Danny. Is that you?"

"Yes, Danny Williams."

"I'm sorry. I meant to call you before now and see how you were doing. Steve had talked about you a lot while here. You two must have been really close. But then we had a crisis here and time ran away with me and…"

Danny's eyes watered. Close. That wasn't even close enough. They were more than friends, more than brothers. They had something special.

"Anyway… I'm sorry. Steve was a really good man. It was a big honor and privilege to work with him."

"Thank you." Danny blinked away the tears. "Um… the reason I'm calling… I just wanted to know… have you heard anything? About Steve?"

"No, what do you mean? About the crash?"

"Yes. Or just anything."

"The last thing I heard was that they wouldn't try to recover the plane because the rebels had taken over that area. Unfortunately, finding and repatriating four casualties isn't a priority out here at the moment with everything going on, and that area is unsafe."

Danny blew out a disappointed breath. "Did Steve ever speak about anything that happened out there? Anything that was bothering him or... I don't know." The problem was, Danny didn't know what to ask exactly because he didn't have a clue what was going on.

There was a static pause on the other end of the phone and then: "Well, I was on leave for a week before he left. I got back the day before he was due to fly out. I barely had time to talk to him. There were a lot of casualties from a recent massacre in a village, and it was crazy around here."

"Was there anything out of the ordinary that happened?"

He sighed. "Sometimes, I think the whole world is out of the ordinary. When you see what we see on a daily basis…" He paused. "What is this about?" His voice was gentle but concerned.

"I don't really know." _I think he could still be alive. I think there's something wrong about what I've been told. Be careful, Danny, don't give away too much._ "Maybe it's just that things have been playing on my mind. It would be nice to hear what he'd been doing before…you know. In his last days." Danny walked into the kitchen and looked at the photo sitting beside his laptop. He swallowed. Took a breath.

"I don't think I can really help you. As I said, I only got there the day before he left and I was very busy."

"Yes, of course. Well… thank you for your time."

"Have you spoken to Adama? He was close to Steve. Even closer than me, I'm sorry to say now. They were good friends."

"I've tried to call him, but I'll try again."

"Okay. Good. Well…"

"Yes, thanks again."

Danny hung up and sank to the chair at the kitchen table, the kernel of hope he'd had catching fire and combusting into dust.

It was naive to think Steve could've been alive. No one could've survived the plane crash. It was a light aircraft, nothing more than thin metal. It was confirmed that the plane was flying at 8,000 feet. Steve and everyone on board would've been crushed to smithereens when it went down. They were all dead, just like he'd been told.

And someone was playing a twisted joke on him. That had to be the only logical explanation.


	4. Chapter 4

Khalfani paced the room, impatiently waiting for Jumah to deliver his findings. He couldn't afford anyone mess up with what he'd built. McGarrett knew too much and it could cost him everything. He had to be dealt with.

His phone rang.

"Any news?" he answered without any pleasantries.

There was a trace of anxiety in Jumah's voice. "No, sir. No one heard anything."

A frown on Khalfani's face deepened. "If we can't find him, we'll make him come to us."

"What do you want me to do?"

"He's got a sister in Los Angeles. Send someone to bring her in. Find out what she knows and we'll see if McGarrett likes her enough to show up."

* * *

It seemed that all the grief Danny had been holding at bay for ten months unleashed, like a dam exploding. It was a jolt so powerful and painful, he could barely breathe. All he could do was let it out in loud, shoulder-shaking sobs.

He didn't know how long he sat on the floor in the living room and cried, his back leaning on the wall, Steve's face in front of his eyes, but sometime later, someone knocked on the door before opening it. It was Lou.

"Hey, man," Lou said, a nervous smile on his face. "I wanted to check on you." The smile disappeared off his lips as soon as he took in the scene and compassion set in his voice. "Danny-"

"I'm fine," Danny managed to croak. "I just… I…" He burst into tears again, unable to explain. Unable to take in all the pain that swallowed him.

Lou crouched down to him and placed the palm of his hand on Danny's shoulder. "I know. I know."

How could he know? How could anyone know? They were all family to Steve but this was different. No one else had that kind of special bond with his partner. There was a big part of him that died with Steve and he had no idea how to keep going.

Lou frowned, his eyes concerned as he took in Danny's puffy eyes and blotchy face. "Just let it out. You've been holding it inside for way too long."

It took him a few more minutes to regain composition as Lou waited patiently, not saying anything. He wiped his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to see me like this."

"Hey, don't apologize," Lou said, shaking his head. "You think I didn't cry? Man, I can't even count how many times I've cried myself to sleep. Steve… He saved my life just coming into it at the right time and when he…" Lou's eyes watered. "When he died, I struggled to keep going. So I get it. You're hurting and you've bottled all the pain up. And sometimes it's harder than other days."

Danny nodded, he knew Lou was right. But this was more than just simple grief. The message from this morning had swirled up a jumble of emotions that he'd tried so hard to bury. "It's not just that I miss him. It's that…" He stopped himself before saying more.

"What is it, Danny? Come on, you know you can talk to me."

Danny shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again when he remembered the warning. The message said not to tell anyone. But then he'd realized it couldn't be Steve who'd sent the photo. It had to be just a cruel joke.

He reached into his pocket and passed the photo to his friend. "I got this in the post this morning." His words came out all jittery.

Lou studied the photo with his lips slightly open, drinking in the information along with the details of the glossy piece of paper. He flipped it over and read the message in the back, then stared at the photo again before looking back at Danny, his lips still parted.

"It's two days old. And it's been sent yesterday, from Bern in Switzerland," Danny summed up.

"That's impossible," Lou croaked. "You don't think-"

"I don't know, Lou," he shook his head and sniffed, brushing his hand over his face. "I don't know what to think."

"I mean," Lou said, scratching his jaw. "McGarrett had survived one plane crash already, right? But how many times can a person be that lucky?"

Danny didn't say anything, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Lou studied the photo again in silence, frowning. "I don't mean to be harsh, but it's not difficult to Photoshop a photo like this, you know that, right?"

A slight nod was Danny's answer as the voice caught in his throat. Of course, he knew that. But when he saw it in the morning, he wanted to believe it was real so much it physically hurt. "Someone must've sent it to me though. And I have no idea who or why."

"We'll find out, okay? Now let's get up and find a more comfortable place to sit at." Lou stood up, holding his arm stretched in front of him for Danny to take it.

Danny hesitated for a moment, then accepted Lou's help to stand up and moved into the couch. He sank into it, his body resigned and stared into the distance blankly for a while.

Lou left and returned holding two beers, watching his blonde colleague intently as he lowered himself onto the armchair next to him. He passed one beer to Danny, who took it without a word. "Now, let's have a talk. Shall we?"

* * *

Mary wasn't sure it was a good idea to be out there. But what else was she supposed to do? She couldn't stop thinking about the text she'd received in the morning. The text that turned her day upside down.

_10.00 am Pan Pacific Park. I have news about your brother._

She had to read it several times to allow the words to sink in. She'd tried to call the number but it was dead.

It's been ten months since Steve's plane crash and she barely began to process her brother's death. She'd always looked up to him, no matter their history or the differences between them. And his tragic death hurt even worse, knowing there was no body to bury, to give him a proper farewell. They haven't found the plane, that's what she was told. But the text got her thinking there might be an update. But why wouldn't the authorities let her know? Who was the person sending her the text?

At first, she didn't even think about meeting the mysterious person. She had enough mystery and secrets in her life. But the curiosity got better out of her eventually. She drove Joanie to school and headed to the meeting point in the park.

She sat on the bench and looked at her watch. It was nearly time. A tightness squeezed her chest, and she didn't know if it was fear or nervousness. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to come here. But what if they knew something she didn't? She had to know.

She blew out a breath, trying to keep the ache in her chest at bay, and glanced around. She registered a man who sat next to her. He didn't speak nor look at her, so she'd assumed this guy wasn't the one she was meeting.

She ignored him, until he whispered, "I have a gun pointed at your waist."

Mary's head whipped around towards him with surprise, thinking she'd completely misheard what he'd said.

He stared straight ahead with a smile on his face.

She glanced down to look at his hands. They were in his pockets. He maneuvered closer to her, digging something hard into her waist.

She gasped. Even though she couldn't actually see it, she knew he was telling the truth.

"You're going to get up and come with me. If you start screaming, if you try to run, if you do anything at all that draws attention to us, I'll shoot you. And then I'll shoot him." He nodded to a small boy feeding the swans. "And his mum. And plenty of other people, including your daughter. Do you understand?" He delivered the words casually as if he was chatting about the weather.

The breath caught in Mary's throat. She was too stunned to speak. The shock and fear had turned her brain into mush. What did she think? Did she really think someone would answer her questions about her brother's death? Steve would've been disappointed she'd fallen into such a stupid trap.

"Do you understand? I'm not going to tell you again." He turned his face towards Mary but his eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses.

"Yes," Mary managed to croak out.

He gave her a smile that chilled her bones, gripped her forearm and pulled her to her feet.

Mary felt dizzy as he walked beside her, his hand in his jacket pocket. She glanced down, saw the bulge of a gun through it, pointing at her. She swallowed, panic making her throat dry. She looked around, trying to catch someone's eye. But no one was paying attention to them or looking in their direction.

"Don't even think about it. Don't look at anyone. Don't try to catch someone's attention or there will be many dead people's blood on your hands," the man said, his voice calm and flat.

Mary kept her gaze straight ahead as her heart pounded, and they walked at a fast pace. "Look, I think you've made a mistake. I don't know what's going on here."

"No talking." He jabbed the gun into her waist.

They were approaching the park entrance. Mary saw a white van parked up at the side of the road. He marched her up to it, opened the sliding door on the side and gestured her to get inside.

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes wanting to search out the street but not daring to in case he started shooting random people. "Wait, don't do this."

He smiled again, leaned forwards so his body pressed her against the side panel of the van, the gun pressed into her stomach. He put his arm around the back of her neck, squeezing it tight, his face just a few inches from hers so she was forced to look at him.

She felt like every drop of blood drained out of her as he smiled again. To anyone walking past, it would look like they were lovers having an intimate conversation.

"Get in the fucking van or I'll kill you."

The man pushed her onto a wooden bench seat on the opposite side of the sliding door and sat next to her. He pulled a gun out of his pocket, along with a silencer that he screwed on, pointing at her.

The van sped along the road.

Mary was absolutely terrified, but she knew that her only hope of getting away from them was to use some kind of weapon. Her handbag was strapped across her body. She tried to think of anything inside that would help her. A notepad, a pack of tissues, her purse, a phone. But she also had a ballpoint pen in there.

But before she could think about when to use it, he said, "Give me your bag."

He took off his sunglasses and stared at her. There was nothing behind his eyes. No compassion, nothing.

He pointed the gun at her knee. "You know, I'd prefer to kill you in front of him, but I can still shoot you. Do you know how fucking painful it is to get kneecapped?"

Her whole body tensed, readying for the shot of a bullet before she slid her bag off with shaking hands and handed it to him. What was he talking about?

"Why am I here? What is this about?" She gathered the courage to speak. "What are you going to do with me?"

He smiled and moved the gun so the silencer slid down the edge of her top, lifting the fabric away from her skin.

She squirmed against the side of the van, trying to get away, but she had nowhere to go.

He leaned over, glanced down at her and said, "Well, that depends on your brother, gorgeous."

Mary's eyes widened in surprise. She couldn't have possibly heard right. What was he talking about? Steve was dead. She stared into his eyes.

He removed his gun, leaning away from her. "No more talking until we get there."

As they drove in silence, Mary's mind raced. She had to get away. She didn't know how much time had passed. Eventually, the van took a sharp, left turn. She glanced down to her right because her feet had just touched something hard. It was a can of spray paint. There was a spark of hope after all. She had to try.

She waited for a couple more seconds, picked up the can, quickly shot up, spun around and sprayed black paint in his face.

He screamed and pointed the gun in her direction.

"What's going on?" the driver shouted and began to slow down.

Mary lurched to the side and kept spraying.

The driver kept on swearing and slowing down.

The gunman shot at her as she carried on spraying. The bullet whizzed past her shoulder. Then he swung his weapon blindly, trying to hit her.

His fist caught her wrist, knocking the can to the floor, giving him some respite.

Mary twisted beneath him and elbowed him in the head. He made a grab for her wrist, swinging the gun around towards her head to hit me with it.

She ducked away just in time and spotted the paint can to her right, a couple of inches out of reach. She stretched towards it, but he grabbed one arm and pinned it above her head. She still had one arm free as she writhed on the ground and slammed the heel of her hand into his nose.

His head jerked up and his grip on Mary released as he fell into the door and slumped in front of it. She stood up and kicked him as hard as she could in the balls with every ounce of strength she had.

He let out a sound like the air being let out of a balloon and collapsed onto his side in a foetal position, clutching his crotch, trying to breathe.

She kicked again, landing a foot in his mouth, before dodging over his feet and lurching for the door handle.

Then she ran, knowing there was only one person she had to reach as soon as possible. Danny Williams.

* * *

Danny sat on the couch in his living room hours after Lou had left, his mind going hundreds of miles per minute, staring into thin air. He couldn't force himself to think about anything else but his best friend, the small, irrational part of him still wondering if his friend might really be alive, and if so, what kind of trouble he is in.

The phone buzzed in his pocket. He picked it up and checked the caller ID - Mary McGarrett.

"Hey, Mary," he answered the call, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he'd felt.

"Danny, something is going on. I just got kidnapped a while ago and they said something about Steve."

The panic in her voice and the words coming out of the phone sent a shiver of cold down Danny's spine.

"Whoa, slow down. You got kidnapped? Do you know where you are? Anything you can recognize?"

"Yes, I am in LA. I managed to escape. But I think they'll come back. They threatened to kill Joan, Danny. I'm so scared," she released a quiet whimper.

"Are you all right? You hurt? What about Joanie? Is she okay?" Fear tightened his chest.

"I'm fine, just a couple of bruises. Joan is at school," she paused. "God, I hope she is. I'm on my way to pick her up now."

Danny's heart began to pound even faster. "Listen to me," he said. "Take Joan and get to Hawaii, as soon as you can, all right?"

"Danny, what's going on?" she asked. "Do you know anything about Steve?"

He had no idea what's going on, but his instincts were on a high, telling him it's all connected to the photo of Steve he'd received earlier. Mary and Joan could be in danger and Danny would prefer to have them close so he can make sure they're both safe.

"Not on the phone," he said. "Just get here and stay in touch, okay?"

She hesitated for a moment. "I'll catch the first available flight."

"Good. Stay safe and call me when you pick up Joan and when you get to the airport."

"Thanks, I will."

Danny returned the phone into the pocket and brushed his face with the fingers on his hand. Why would anyone want to kidnap Mary? Why would they tell her anything about her brother? Why now? He had too many questions he needed to be answered. But all of them suggested his best friend was either still alive and in trouble or all this was somehow connected to his death.

He shoved the second thought into the back of his mind. Someone going after Mary right now could only mean one thing. Steve was alive and trying to contact him.

* * *

"What do you mean she escaped?" Khalfani yelled into the phone. "Can't you handle one woman? Then what the hell am I paying you for?"

"I'm sorry," the man on the other side of the line, one of his best men, murmured.

"Find her. Or find McGarrett, I don't really care how! Find his friends, whatever you have to do," he snarled.

"Yes, sir. I'll find him."

He spoke through the clenched teeth. "You better do. And one more thing. Make sure you bring him in alive. He's mine."

Khalfani ended the call and paced the room, his brain on fire. Then he got an idea.


	5. Chapter 5

Adama bowed to Allah, kneeling on the prayer mat inside his small home built of mud brick. He went through his usual ritual, reciting the prayer words he knew by heart.

When he finished, he offered up a silent prayer of his own. But Adama was losing faith. Things were changing for the worse. His country was dying. People were dying or disappearing. He'd tried to do his best to help, but he was just one man in a small network of similar-minded friends.

Adama stood and felt the hopelessness wash over him once again. He thought of the women arriving at the medical center – raped, beaten, mutilated by the rebels. He thought of the children, missing, stolen. He thought of the men – murdered so they couldn't fight back and mess with Khalfani's plan to take over the country.

Life was painful. He didn't realize then just how painful it could be. Forty minutes later, after his door burst open and two members of the secret police came for him, after they'd blindfolded him and taken him to an unknown location, after he'd been forced into a chair, his arms and legs tied to it with thick rope, he realized true pain.

Adama trembled behind the blindfold of material that scratched his skin. He breathed heavily through his mouth, trying to quell the fear burning inside the pit of his stomach.

There was no warning when the first blow struck him on the side of his head. A fist hit hard enough to knock him onto his side, the chair clattering on the floor beneath him, banging his shoulder against rough concrete. There was barely any time before he was hoisted up again and another blow hit him, this time from behind. Adama's head flew forward onto his chest.

"No! Please, no! I haven't done anything." He struggled against the rope. The next strike sent pain erupting through his spine between his shoulder blades, like a firework against his skin, as his captors used a whip. Adama whimpered, but the whip rained down on his body, the crack against skin followed by Adama's shrieking cry of pain. But no one would ever hear him down there.

The officers whipped Adama until he was almost too far gone he couldn't cry out anymore. Then Khalfani nodded at them to stop. Adama's head lolled against his chest, his body soaked with sweat and blood.

Khalfani ripped off the blindfold, then leaned against the concrete wall opposite and crossed his arms casually over his chest. He watched Adama blink rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the searing white light from the spotlight above his head, glaring down at him. "Where is Steve McGarrett?" Khalfani asked.

"I…I don't know what you mean. He died…in a plane crash."

Khalfani clicked his teeth with his tongue. "Unfortunately not. And you are trying my patience. Where did you take McGarrett? We know he was not on that plane before it took off. It could only have been you that helped him."

Adama thought back to that day. "I don't…understand what you mean. I took him to the airport. As far as I knew he was on that plane. I am being honest."

"Did he give you what he took?"

Adama shook his head. "He didn't give me anything. I don't know what you're talking about. Really, I have no idea."

"But you were friends."

"Not friends. Colleagues," he lied. "I helped set up the medical center."

"Yes. I know all about you." Khalfani stepped away from the wall and walked closer to Adama. "I know about your little group," he hissed.

Adama let out a small whimper. "I have no group. I am just one man."

Khalfani picked up a pair of pliers from a table in the corner of the room. He stopped in front of Adama and attached the pliers to his right nipple, clenching down hard and twisting.

Adama let out a loud scream.

Khalfani bent over so his face was inches from Adama's. "If you tell me the truth, I will let you go. If you don't…well…I will rip off bits and pieces of you, one by one."

Salty tears streamed down Adama's cheeks as he fought the sickening wave of hurt. He could tell Khalfani everything he knew. He could betray a trust, a good friend, the children, and his country, but he knew he was a dead man anyway. It was only a matter of time. He was utterly helpless and alone, and no one would come to his rescue. He just hoped he could endure the pain before they killed him.

"I don't know anything!" Adama cried out. "I took him to the airport, and then I came home. I didn't see him again. I didn't know he wasn't on the plane. This is the truth."

"And what about his sister, his friends, hmmm? Do they know where he is? Have they been hiding him all this time?"

"I don't…I don't know any of them. I don't know what happened. He…must…he must've got on the plane."

Khalfani stood upright. "Nothing will jeopardize my takeover of this country. Nothing will jeopardize the business interests of my country. You have one final chance to tell me. And if you do, I will treat you well. I will make sure you are rewarded. If not, you will disappear." He grinned. "It is your choice. Everything is up to you."

But Adama knew that choices were an illusion. "I don't know anything," he repeated quietly.

"Then you have made your choice."

* * *

Danny stared into space as he sat in his office, thinking, wondering, hoping, waiting for Adama to call him back after numerous unsuccessful calls. He had a rough night and his brain was working overtime the whole time. His eyes blinked as he fought the exhaustion.

It was almost time to pick up Mary and Joan from the airport. But what was he going to tell her? He had no idea what was going on himself. He needed to find out if there was something tangible that could prove Steve wasn't dead. Even though his heart already accepted he was alive, his head was resisting the idea. There was still the possibility this was some kind of joke someone was playing. And even if not, he had no idea how to find him or what kind of trouble he was in.

Danny's world tilted and shook as he picked up the photo again and stared at it, his fingertips tracing his face. Then when he'd realized something. If Steve was alive, he needed some money to live on. He put the photo down and peeked out of his office, to see where everyone is. No one seemed to be by the smart table. Good. Lou knew but Danny didn't want risk involving the rest of the team just yet. Steve warned him not to tell anyone.

He headed to the smart table and started typing. It took him a few minutes to pull Steve's financials. Although he was pretty sure Steve wouldn't use any of those accounts if he didn't want to be found. But he had to try.

He scrolled month by month, day by day to see anything unusual. Nothing out of the ordinary. When he'd gone back ten months, to just before Steve died, something made him peer closer to the screen. Made him blink to refocus his eyes.

Dated two days before he was due to fly home, there was an entry that read _Cloudbox $99_. Except for the flight tickets, it was the only payment that Steve had made during his whole time in Africa.

Cloudbox? Danny had no idea what that was. He opened another tab and typed it in the search bar. A website with the same name came up as the first hit. He clicked on it and it took him to the home page. He scanned the website and found the About us section. It said Cloudbox was a technology company that built powerful tools for personal and business needs. He kept reading until he figured out it was actually a file hosting service that offered cloud storage and file synchronization.

"What are you doing? You need some help?"

Danny heard a female voice behind his back and stiffened. He turned around and found himself facing Tani.

"Um… actually, no, thanks. It's nothing important," he lied.

The look in Tani's eyes softened as she approached him and looked up at him, worry written all over her face. "Danny, I saw you going through Steve's financials just a minute ago. Don't do this to yourself."

Danny fixed his gaze on the floor, unsure of what to say. He wanted to tell them. He wanted to scream it into the world. But not yet. Not until he was sure it was safe for them and for Steve.

He glanced over his watch. "You know what?" he said. "Why don't you guys go home? We're almost done anyway and if anything pops up I'll give you a call."

"Danny-"

"It's not a request," he stepped in. He really didn't want to sound harsh but if that's what it took to be alone and focus on finding his best friend, then be it.

He watched Tani's facial features hardened as she stabbed her eyes into his in surprise. "Okay," she said. "But you don't have to push us away, you know that, right? We all miss him. We're in this together and I think you should let someone in. It would be easier."

"Please. I need some alone time."

Tani nodded, frowning, and walked into the office where the rest of the team had been chatting. Danny watched as all the eyes turned toward him when Tani spoke to them. After a minute that took them to understand their boss had actually kicked them all out of the HQ, they said their goodbyes and left.

Except for Lou. He walked straight to the smart table, knowing what all this was about. "Do you really think it was him who'd sent it?"

"I'm not sure. But if it was him, if he is in trouble, I can't just stand aside, Lou. I need to find him and then kick his ass for putting us through all that."

That little attempt of being Danny's usual self again had put a slight grin on Lou's face. "All right then, where do we start looking?"

Danny's head whipped to the side, meeting Lou's gaze. "You don't have to-"

"Oh come on, drop it! You know I want to find him as much as you do. And if you're right, if your boy is alive, we can't leave him hanging. We owe him that much."

Danny nodded, then turned his attention back to the screen. "Two days before the crash he'd paid for this cloud storage. I'd say we need to get in to see what's in there."

"You know, Junior would crack that open in a couple of minutes," Lou suggested.

Danny shook his head wildly. "No. It might be dangerous, Lou. I don't know what's going on yet."

Lou nodded, frowning at the login section of the website.

Danny typed in Steve's email address and tried the password he could've used. A box reading invalid email or password popped up. He tried another password but the result was the same. He kept trying, typing in more combinations of emails and passwords, but it still wouldn't let him in.

He exhaled loudly and that's when an idea came up. He knew one of Steve's email passwords. He could try and retrieve the password if Steve had used that email address. His fingers danced across the keyboard. He retrieved the password and logged in to Steve's email.

When he logged in, page upon page of spam and unopened emails flooded the screen. Ten month's worth of correspondence. He ignored them all and clicked the link in the newest email from Cloudbox.

"Huh, who would say it could be that easy," Lou commented.

Danny set up a new password and logged in. It brought him to Steve's home page. He clicked on files, but there was nothing there.

He frowned at the screen. "Why would he set up a cloud storage site, two days before he'd left Africa, but not added anything on it."

"Or maybe he added something and then deleted it?" Lou said.

Danny stared at the screen, chewing on his lower lip until he tasted blood. Then he picked up his phone and dialed Adama's number again. It rang with no reply, but it gave him another idea.

Phone records. It wasn't hard to dig those up. In a few minutes, he and Lou were scrolling the pages of Steve's calls during his trip.

Danny examined the calls, most of which were made to him and two mobile numbers that he double-checked belonged to Adama and Pete. A third number was listed and he'd called it six times that month. It belonged to Sabrina. The last time Steve had called it was the day before he was due to fly home. Just after that, the last call he ever made, was at two-eighteen pm - another call to Adama which lasted fifty-one seconds.

But that must've been wrong. There was an error somewhere. Danny stiffened, which didn't go unnoticed by his older colleague.

"What is it? You see something?"

Danny didn't answer and turned on his heel, running into his office and ignoring Lou's calls. He went straight to his desk and opened up a drawer. He found what he'd been looking for - Steve's death certificate given to him by Narumbean government, and the letter he'd originally received from them about the crash. He read through it again as he walked back to the smart table, where Lou stood with his brows drawn together.

He read through it again…

_Dear Detective Williams,_

_It is with regret that I must inform you of the death of Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett to a plane crash on 15th June 2019. The light aircraft, departing at 2.10 pm, was traveling to the capital with two other passengers and pilot when all contact was lost with the plane one hour into the flight. It is believed to have suffered engine failure from a bird strike, causing the plane to go down in dense bushland in the central area of the country, which, unfortunately at present, is controlled by a rebel militia. Therefore, it is considered highly unsafe to attempt to investigate, locate the wreckage, and recover the bodies for repatriation. The plane was flying at an altitude of 8000 feet and we are certain there were no survivors._

_We will shortly be issuing a death certificate in absentia. If you, or a chosen representative, would like to visit us to take ownership of the certificate or speak with me, you are most welcome to do so. Alternatively, I can arrange for the certificate to be posted._

_We would like to thank Steve McGarrett for his help to our country in this time of civil unrest._

_If you have any further questions, please don't hesitate to contact me._

_Our condolences and thoughts are with you at this sad time._

_Kind regards,_

_Khalfani Iwu_

_Head of Police_

_Interior Ministry_

Danny's jaw dropped.

"Danny? What do you see?" Lou asked, trying to understand his behavior.

"He wasn't on the plane."

"What?"

"The plane took off at two-ten pm," he explained. "His last call was at two-eighteen pm. There is no way he would've been calling from the air. Not unless the time of the flight's take-off was wrong."

"Or the entry on the bill," Lou added.

Danny starred at the letter. It didn't make sense. The only thing he could think of was that Steve hadn't been on that plane.

There was a contact number on the letter. Danny dialed and paced as he waited for the call to be picked up and put it on speaker. A woman answered, speaking in a language he didn't understand.

"Hi. Do you speak English?" Danny asked.

"Yes. This is Khalfani Iwu's assistant. How can I help you?"

"Hello. My name is Danny Williams. Is it possible to speak with Mr. Iwu?"

"Please hold the line while I see if he is free."

Some waiting and then finally he heard the voice of the police officer. "Hello, Detective Williams. This is Khalfani Iwu speaking." His voice was soft and friendly.

Danny met the head of police himself ten months ago when he'd gone to Africa to retrieve Steve's death certificate. Khalfani seemed to be an intelligent man and he was really friendly. He'd shown Danny all he wanted to see, answered all his questions. But Danny wasn't sure if he remembered him by name.

"I'm not sure if you remember me, Mr. Iwu. We've met ten months ago when-"

"Yes, of course, I remember. Once again, I'm very sorry for your loss. What can I do for you?"

"Thank you. I've just been wondering whether you managed to locate the plane yet? Or if you have any new information? I know you said before the area it went down in was occupied by rebels, but has there been any change in that situation?"

"I'm sorry, but the plane has never been located. As I explained to you before, the rebel factions operating in that area make it impossible to facilitate any kind of search for the wreckage. I do not expect the situation to change in the near future."

"Right." Danny rubbed his forehead, throbbing with tension. Maybe he was heading off on some ridiculous, wild-goose chase, but he desperately wanted to believe Steve was really alive. "Okay. Thank you for your time."

"You're most welcome. And if anything changes, I will, of course, inform you."

They said their goodbyes and Danny looked back at Lou.

"Do you believe him?" Lou asked.

"I don't know. I mean, he's the head of police in there. He might know more than he's telling me."

Danny picked up his phone and tried Adama again. Still no answer. If anyone would know something, it must be him, the last person Steve had called.

He cupped his hand to his mouth as he stared at the words on the phone bill again, getting more and more confused. Steve had called Sabrina the last day before his flight, but her words rang in his head from their previous conversation. She'd said she'd last spoken to Steve his second week in, but that wasn't right.

Was it an error on her part? Or had she just lied to him? And did she know more than she'd told him?

* * *

Khalfani Iwu dialed the number in Zurich and waited for it to connect.

"Hello," Simon Dietrich answered.

"We have a problem," Khalfani spoke softly into the phone.

"What kind of problem?"

Khalfani swallowed. He didn't get nervous often, but he was now. He hesitated for a moment, then answered.

"Why am I only hearing about this McGarrett now?"

"I thought it had been dealt with sufficiently."

"You assured me you could handle operations out there. And now you're telling me this… when we're in the middle of something I've spent months building up to?"

"It's not just you who has been working hard for months. I can handle things. But we need extra help brought in Someone in Hawaii."

"How much does his family know?"

"I'm not sure about his sister. But there is someone else who I'm worried about more than her."

"Who?"

"Detective Danny Williams. He used to work with McGarrett. Now he's the head of a special taskforce in Hawaii. He seems suspicious, asking a lot of questions. This is why I need your help. I think we should send some people to find out what he knows and who he's talking to."

The line went silent for a moment before Dietrich said, "I'll get my people on it. This cannot get out. Not now. Not ever."

"Okay."

"Keep me updated," Dietrich snapped.

"You too."

Khalfani hung up and called for his maid. The only way to get rid of the growing anger was to hurt someone.

* * *

Danny asked Lou to pick up Mary and Joan from the airport while he headed to Sabrina's office for answers to his questions. This was a conversation they needed to have in person. If she was hiding something from him, or lying, then it would be easier for Danny to tell face-to-face.

Emotionally drained but spurred on by a need to find answers he drove to Sabrina's office. He got past by receptionist, who let him in without much persuading. She indicated on the sofa and told him to wait.

But he couldn't sit. He was too fired up, too on the edge. Instead, he paced the hall like a caged tiger, thinking about what could've happened to his friend out there. What was so bad he had to hide for ten months? Hide even from him? His stomach twisted and he felt sick.

Sabrina calling him name brought him back to reality. "Danny? Are you okay?" She rested her hand on his shoulder, her forehead bunched with what looked like concern.

He avoided the question. "Can I talk to you?"

She studied him for a moment. "Sure. Come this way." She walked him into a small conference room and sat at the head of the table. "What can I do for you? I'm afraid I haven't heard anymore about the plane," she said quickly, as she was pre-empting any blame Danny might lay at her feet.

Danny sat opposite her. "I spoke to Pete, and I've been trying to speak with Adama, but I can't get hold of him."

She tilted her head slightly, with a look of concentration. "Sometimes the signal is not great in there."

"When I talked to you over the phone, you said you last spoke to Steve during the second week of his stay. Was that right?"

"I think so." Her gaze roamed Danny's face.

"Well, I've just been going through his phone records, and it shows that you spoke with him the day before he was… before he disappeared. Can you tell me what it was about?"

Her reaction was subtle, but Danny was certain. He'd been doing his job for long enough to recognize when someone was lying to him. She hardly missed a beat before she said, "Well, it would have been hospital-related. I can't remember exactly what we spoke about, it was ten months ago."

"Right." Danny carried on scanning her face. "How did he seem?"

"From what I remember, he was fine."

Danny looked at her hand and saw the almost unnoticeable tremor in it. He looked back to her face, straight into her eyes. "Were you two-"

"Of course not. We were just old friends."

He continued staring into her eyes. Something was off about what she was telling him, he was certain of it.

She broke eye contact first, looking away, standing up. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can help you any further, and I'm…" she glanced at her watch, "expecting an important conference call in five minutes."

"Of course," Danny rose too.

She headed toward the door, throwing the next words over her shoulder. "Like I said on the phone, if I find out any more about the plane, I'll let you know. I'd like him to be home just like you'd like that."

"Yes," Danny said, not really listening anymore, trying instead to work out exactly what she could be hiding and why.

He got back into his car and just sat there for a moment. Sabrina was definitely lying about something. Considering Steve's phone call to Adama after the plane had taken off, it seemed most likely Steve hadn't been on that plane when it went down. Danny still couldn't work out why he hadn't contacted him until now, though. How could he have let him think he was dead? Go through the interminable grief and guilt for the last ten months? There had to be a good reason.

Danny stared into the distance, not really seeing anything. In his mind, he was visualizing Steve, the way he smiled. How he always gave people his attention when they talked, like they were the most interesting thing in the world - that rare quality of really being able to listen. How he was always passionate about always wanting to help people. So much it had drained him.

He blinked back the tears threatening to form and then his phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket and saw the foreign country code on the screen and answered the phone.

"You need to stop. You are in danger. They'll come after you and everybody you love, even your dog if you don't stop. Don't trust Khalfani Iwu." The voice was muffled, the line crackling, but the accent was clearly foreign.

"Who are you?" Danny was talking to thin air. Whoever it was had abruptly ended the call.

As Danny looked up, he spotted a man in the car parked across the street. For a second, his gaze locked on Danny's before he turned his head in the other direction so he could no longer see his face.

Was he watching him? Danny reached for his gun and opened the door, intending on confronting the man. But as soon as he got out of the car, the man sped away. Danny took a mental note of the plates, but deep inside he knew it's either fake or stolen.

He returned to the car, his stomach cramping with the need for food, but he ignored it. All he could think about the warning. It just confirmed what he'd thought. Steve must've got mixed up in something dangerous again.

Danny grabbed his phone and hit redial, hoping to speak to whoever had called earlier to warn him off. The number rang and rang, and just when he was about to hang up a voice answered in French. "Bonjour. Hotel d'Alleves."

The voice sounded different to whomever had called earlier. Danny knew it wouldn't be a good idea to alert whoever was on the other end of the line. He hung up, heading back to the HQ to find out more about this hotel, his brain on fire.

Someone was watching him and people were lying to him. Everything pointed to one conclusion only - Steve was alive. Danny was getting too close to finding the truth and someone didn't like that.


	6. Chapter 6

"No! No way, Danny!" Mary yelled, her arms crossed on her chest. "I didn't come all the way to Hawaii to be locked up in a safe house!"

Danny knew he shouldn't tell anyone about Steve but what else was he supposed to tell her? She was already involved anyway. But he couldn't risk her and her daughter's safety.

"It's not safe for you to be out there at the moment," he said. "And if something happened to you or Joan, Steve would kill me."

"I can't just wait and do nothing Danny. He is my brother." Tears welled in her eyes. "I had no one else but him and when he died… I… I felt so lost. If he's really alive, I need to find him. I want to help."

Danny wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into an embrace. "I know." His voice was soft and compassionate. "I will find him, Mary. I won't stop until I find him, all right? But you'll help me more if I don't have to worry about your safety. Think about Joan. She has no one but you."

Mary pulled away from the hug after a few seconds and nodded reluctantly, wiping her tears. "Okay," she muttered.

His heart shattered when he saw her like this. Steve was Mary's and Joan's only family left and with their family's tragic past it was no surprise she looked up to her big brother, even after all they've been through. It broke her when Danny had called her ten months ago to tell her about the plane crash. And now she had a hard time to believe Steve could be alive.

But Danny was certain now. Call it instinct, brother's bond, whatever. He knew Steve was out there. And he won't let anything and anyone stop him until his best friend is back home and safe.

* * *

Blake was waiting for Sabrina Lawson when she arrived home. He had clear instructions, and he always followed them to the letter, even if he liked to add a touch of an initiative to his work. In this case, his orders were to find out how much Danny Williams knew and whether he was in touch with McGarrett. From the bugs and cameras Blake's associate had planted in Williams' house that afternoon - while Blake had been following him to Health International's offices - nothing interesting had come to light yet.

But Blake thought Sabrina looked guilty as hell about something as she'd watched Williams away from the building's front doors. Their conversation could only have been to do with McGarrett's whereabouts that she might be keeping hidden.

When he heard a key enter the lock at the front door, he took up position behind the door and clutched his knife. He listened to Sabrina's footsteps in the hallway and waited patiently, his back against the wall. Her footsteps came closer. The door swung inwards and she entered the room without noticing him.

He punched her hard into the kidney, and she fell forwards onto the floor, the breath expelling from her lungs. She moaned in pain and tried to get up, but he didn't give her a chance, straddling her back and pinning her to the ground.

She cried out as he grabbed her arms and cuffed them together behind her back. She tried to struggle her body beneath him, but it was pointless.

"Please," she whimpered. "Don't hurt me. I have the money upstairs. Jewelry. Take it and leave me alone."

He leaned forward at the waist and put his mouth to her ear, his breath caressing her skin. "I haven't come for that." The smell of her, something sweet got him hard. He ground himself into her back.

She froze. "No. Please. Not that."

"You and me are going to have a little chat. If you tell me the truth, I'll let you go." He ran his fingers through her hair softly, stroking down the right side of her neck, lower, his fingertips skimming the outline of her breast. "Do you understand?"

Her breath came in sharp pants as she nodded.

"Just so we're completely clear …" He trailed off and whipped the knife around, bringing it in front of her face.

She moaned wildly, her body trembling beneath him. She tried to buck him off, but she was no match for his weight pressing her down into the floor.

He grabbed her long hair and yanked her head backward with one hand, touched the tip of the sharp blade to her cheekbone with the other. "If I think you're lying, you'll wish I'd just kill you."

She made a squeaking sound and nodded rapidly.

"You met Danny Williams."

"Y… yes."

"What did you talk about?"

"He just… um… he asked about Steve McGarrett."

"What about him?"

Tears slid down her cheek as she said, "He wanted to know what Steve had spoken to me about a few days before the plane crash."

"Explain."

A sob escaped from her lips. "I haven't told anyone. I can't risk t getting out. My priority is medical aid, I didn't want our permissions to be revoked."

"Haven't told anyone what?"

"About what Steve told me. Khalfani Iwu. His involvement. I… I think that's why you're here."

"So you've kept it to yourself all this time?"

"Yes."

Blake snorted. "You know, I'm not sure whether to believe you." He dug the blade into her cheek. "Is Williams in contact with McGarrett?"

"I don't know what you mean. He's dead." She twisted her head away. "Steve's dead."

He released the grip on her hair a little and stroked her face with the knife. "Are you sure about that?"

She jerked her head and clamped her teeth onto the exposed wrist of his knife hand, biting onto his wrist.

Blake tried to yank his arm away, but her teeth bore down hard. His knife wouldn't reach her from this angle.

He released her hair and punched her in the back of the head.

She let go of his wrist, whimpering and shaking beneath him. His skin throbbed. He shifted his weight to the side then turned her over onto her back, her arms tight beneath her. Then he straddled her once more. She looked up at him with absolute terror in her eyes. "You shouldn't have done that." He pressed the blade to her throat. "What else did you talk about with Williams?"

"Nothing. I swear."

"Do you know what? I think you're telling the truth. But the rules have changed now. I think after the stunt you pulled you owe me, so …" He trailed the knife over her collar bone, down towards her heaving chest. He sliced through the buttons on her silk blouse one by one, gradually exposing the tanned skin beneath.

* * *

Danny was on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, both - physical and emotional. But he couldn't stop now. There was no time to rest, not when he was so sure Steve was alive and in danger. His heavy eyelids fluttered and he had to shake his head to open them up again.

He stared at the screen of his laptop, sitting behind the desk in his office, willing Steve to call, to email, to… do something. He kept picking up his phone, checking the screen to make sure he still had a signal or to see if he had a new message, but… nothing.

Thinking about his next steps, wondering why anyone would call him from the hotel in Switzerland, where Steve had taken the photo, Danny must've drifted off to sleep in the early hours, because he woke to the sound of his ringtone.

He grabbed his phone from the desk, his heart thumping with anticipation, but it was just Lou calling.

"Hey, are you okay? I came to your house to check on you and you're not at home."

"I didn't go home last night," Danny said.

There was a short pause on the other side on the line. "You should get some rest, Danny. You're no use to him if you're dead on your feet."

Lou was right. But how could he just go home and sleep like nothing was going on?

"When is the last time you've eaten something?" Lou asked.

"Um…" he tried to think. "I'm not really sure."

"Okay, that's it. Get your ass home, I'll pick up some food meanwhile."

Danny hesitated for a moment, then agreed and hung up. He glanced over his watch. The team will be here soon. Better to get away before anyone comes in to avoid seeing the pity in their eyes. He checked his mailbox and his phone one more time, then stood up and headed home.

Lou was already there, waiting for him with a bag of some bakery and two cups of coffee. He gave Danny a sad smile when he got out of his car and headed to the front door. "Any news?"

"Just what I've told you last night. Sabrina is hiding something, I'm sure of that. Someone in Geneva called me to warn me I'm in danger and not to trust Khalfani Iwu. Then the guy who'd been watching me drove a car with fake plates. Nothing much. Nothing that might help me find him."

"We'll find him, Danny." Lou's voice was confident. "But let's eat something first, all right?"

Danny nodded and pushed the door open. And then he saw the envelope on the floor, the same small, brown envelope addressed in the same block capital letters. His heart jumped.

He ripped it open and pulled out a single piece of paper. Another note.

_Meet me at Makiki District Park today._

_The last bench at the same time you saw me the last time._

_I'll explain everything._

Danny blew out a breath he'd been clutching inside and looked up at Lou. "He's here." His voice was a mere whisper. "Steve's in Honolulu."

"What?"

Danny read the note again and again. "He wants to meet me." He glanced over his watch. The last time he'd seen his friend was when he'd dropped him off at the airport.

"When? Where?"

"Makiki District Park, in twelve hours." Danny tucked the letter into his pocket and a wide smile stretched his cheeks.

* * *

Blake sat in the back of the van parked at the end of Danny's close and waited patiently for the Detective to return home. They had some talking to do. He peered from the window when his phone buzzed with an alert.

It was from the cameras and voice recorders planted in Williams' house and they'd just been activated. A grin snaked up the corner of his lips.

As he clicked on the recording box with real-time footage. Danny and another man walked in and picked up the post, their expressions suggesting there was something about the piece of paper inside. And blondie's next words just confirmed Blake's suspicions.

"He's here. Steve is in Honolulu."

Blake's eyes widened with surprise. He zoomed in to the paper in Detective's hands and his grin grew wider. It was like he just won the main prize. Steve McGarrett himself.

* * *

Danny couldn't stop smiling as he walked toward the bench, waiting for Steve. He looked at his watch. It was nearly time. A tightness squeezed his chest, and he didn't know if it was fear or nervous excitement. He couldn't wait to see his friend again. But what if he was wrong and this had been some kind of sick hoax?

He blew out a breath, trying to keep the ache in his chest at bay, and glanced around. At first, he barely registered four men who walked a couple of meters behind him, but his senses were on high. He had someone watching him before and if it was them, he didn't want to lead them to Steve.

He kept walking, slowing his pace down to see how the men would react. The sounds of their footsteps adjusted accordingly, which gave him the answer he was looking for.

They were there for him.

* * *

Steve stood at his hotel window, his stomach coiled tight as he watched for Danny's approach. It would be over soon. After all the waiting he'd see his best friend again and they'll do what had to be done.

He tugged his baseball cap over his eyes to hide from any people that might recognize him. It was a risk coming here but a risk he had to take if he was going to save the kids. And he needed Danny's help for that.

He'd chosen the location carefully, in case someone recognized him. Too many people on this island knew him and long hair along with a beard wouldn't fool all of them. He couldn't have anyone else finding out he was still alive until the final moment when it was too late for them to react. If they knew, everyone he loves would be in danger. His sister and niece, Danny and his kids, all his friends, and their families. He couldn't let that happen.

He wiped his sweating palms on his jeans for the fourth time and let his mind wander back to Africa. To what he'd seen, what they didn't want him to expose, being ordered into the office at the airport by Khalfani Iwu and them confiscating his electronics. His evidence.

The police officer who'd patted him down had checked the leg pocket of his cargo pants, but surprisingly, didn't reveal to Khalfani Steve's phone nested inside. The other phone that Steve had handed over freely had been a cheap phone with a local SIM card, used only for emergencies.

Steve was told later by his friend Adama that the officer had been one of Adama's inside men. But sadly, Khalfani had later suspected him of working with Adama's group and had him killed.

After Khalfani had let Steve go, he'd thought he was one step closer to his objective. They wouldn't find anything on his laptop and video recorder because Steve had already removed the evidence and uploaded everything to a cloud.

But he wasn't that naive to think they'd just let him go. Khalfani would never risk it coming out. So he'd waited, sitting in that plane, until his men had turned away and left. When he'd told the pilot that he had an emergency and couldn't take the flight after all, his heart had hammered in his chest in case the pilot was one of them.

At that time, he'd thought they would be waiting for him in their destination, to intercept him when he arrived and kill him there. He had no idea then they were about to murder three innocent people by tampering with the plane to bring it down, but it made sense.

It was a better strategy for a foreigner to die in a plane crash than disappear or be murdered because others would start asking questions.

He'd felt relieved as he climbed down the steps, hurried along and hidden in the bush before calling Adama to come and collect him.

It was what Adama did the best. He helped the disappeared all the time. He had managed to get Steve a fake passport and had smuggled him across the borders, where he'd taken a plane to Singapore. All he could think of was getting home and get Danny's help to stop this madness. To save the kids. But Adama had told him the plane had gone down and his plans had to change.

In the last ten months, while they'd been getting everything ready, he'd almost reached out and contacted his best friend so many times but had stopped himself at the last minute. It was torture. He couldn't let anything happen to him. To any of his loved ones. Not until he could keep them safe. And the only way to ensure their safety in the meantime was to let Danny, his friends, his family, and Khalfani Iwu, think he was dead.

He watched for the people in the park, his nerves jangling, waiting for a glimpse of his best friend. It was dark and the path was illuminated by the lampposts alongside. There was no sign of anyone.

He thought about the last time he'd seen Danny. That morning he'd left about a year ago. When Danny had given him a ride to the airport, he had no way of knowing it was their goodbye. Danny was pissed that morning. Almost offended Steve hadn't told him that he'd been thinking about leaving until the night before his flight.

But he had to do this. Sabrina had come into his life at the right moment. He'd been thinking about leaving Five-0 and Hawaii anyway, she'd just given him an opportunity to do some good while searching for his inner peace at the same time.

But he'd missed Danny back there. And even more after the plane crash, as he couldn't have contacted him anymore. It was extremely difficult not to, knowing what pain his death would cause to his partner. He knew Danny will be angry, raging about letting him think Steve was dead. But eventually, he would forgive him. Because they had a bond, and throughout everything, their bond was unbreakable.

His heart jumped and his stomach churned as he saw Danny walk on the path, glancing around. He watched him for a minute to make sure it was safe to come outside.

He was about to turn around and go down there to meet his friend when he noticed four men coming from the same direction as Danny. They were all tall and wide, built like rugby players, casually glancing around the park. They might be just random people passing by, but Steve knew better.

Something was off. He kept his gaze on them, just to be sure, and then he saw one of the man's hands reaching behind his belt.

Fear slammed into Steve's chest. The guy had a gun, he was sure of it. And in a few seconds, all men aimed their guns at his best friend.

No. No, no, no. How had they found out Danny was meeting him? How had they found out he was alive? He'd always been careful.

He stood frozen in horror as one of the men patted Danny down, taking his gun. Then instinct kicked in and he ran from the room, down the corridor past the lifts and shouldered open the fire doors, sliding down the stairs three at a time.

By the time Steve had barrelled through the doors to the hotel and run across the street to the meeting point, there was no sign of Danny and the four men. Steve stood and turned around, his eyes looking for his best friend. Nothing. He jogged around the park, searching for them, fear lodged in his chest like a knife.

Where the hell were they? Those men could've taken him anywhere by now. The park was huge and led onto several different back roads. He ran across the entrance, looking one way, then the other, panic skipping through him. No sign of Danny.

This couldn't be happening. It was supposed to be work. No one should have been watching them now. He was careful, so certain Khalfani and his men thought he was dead. He had to find out where they'd taken Danny. The trouble was, he had no clue where to start. They could be anywhere. He knew what kind of people were they. They'd torture Danny to find out what he knew about him, and then they'd kill him. He might never see him again. Not when they were finished with him. All because he'd asked his friend for help. It was all his fault.

He ran around the park, calling Danny's name, not caring anymore that he was drawing attention to himself, because if those men had accomplices waiting for him, then he would use himself to draw them out.

At the same moment he had that thought, he could hear sounds of footsteps coming from behind him. Barely a second later, four men bounded out from around the corner right in front of him, rifles held up to their faces, the barrels pointed directly at Steve.

Steve turned to see two other men behind him, their guns pointed at him. He was panting, trying to catch his breath, his face pouring sweat and he could feel his cotton shirt was wet and sticking to him.

The four men moved aside, their eyes locked on Steve, and through the crowd strode a solitary figure. A short, plump man, walking casually with his hands behind his back. There was no sign of a rifle on his body, likely he just had the sidearm that was holstered on his hip.

The man walked toward Steve, then stopped a few yards in front of him. He stood tall, a steely expression on his face. Steve had no doubt this was the guy in charge. "You look good for a dead man," he taunted.

Steve remained silent, doing his best to hide the turmoil inside.

"On your knees," the man demanded.

Steve didn't make a move.

"Put your hands behind your head, then get down on your knees," the man said, his tone harder.

Steve gave him one more look, considering his options, then lowered himself down. His expression was calm, but inwardly his heart was thudding and his brain was a mess. All he could think about was that Danny was in danger because of him. He had to find him and save him, there was no time to lose.

The man in charge smiled revealing yellow and misshapen teeth. He lifted his gun and pointed it at Steve's head. "You should've remained dead," he said. His smile grew wider. "But I'm glad you didn't. This will be so much more fun."

That was it, Steve had to take action, while he still had a chance. It was now or never. He was outnumbered but it had to be possible, and Steve had fought against the odds before.

From his position, he could easily take the man in charge down, no problem. The real threat was in the other six armed men that surrounded him. The best option was to grab the leader of the group and use him as a human shield. The other men wouldn't use their boss as target practice.

He had to try. He sprang up. But as Steve reached out to grapple with the boss, he was surprised when he heard the pop-pop of rifles with silencers. Were these men really risking taking out their boss, and each other?

No, of course not. Steve realized as he felt a stabbing pain in his back. The pops - not from the rifles, but modified dart guns.

As the guy's smile grew, Steve collapsed.

* * *

Lou paced his living room, anxiously checking the phone in his hand, waiting for the news from Danny. The rational part of his brain had a hard time believing Steve could actually be alive, but his heart took over and pushed that thought aside. They had proof he wasn't on the plane. And it was McGarrett after all. If anyone could have survived any kind of problem, it was him.

His phone rang and he looked at it swiftly. But it wasn't Danny. It was the Governor.

"Captain Grover," he answered.

"Good evening, Captain Grover," she said. "I've been trying to reach Detective Williams but unfortunately he doesn't answer the phone, that's why I'm calling."

"He is a little busy at the moment," Lou tried to excuse his friend. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes. We just landed a case. A sexual assault and homicide. The victim's name is Sabrina Lawson. I'm sending you the address right now."

Lou froze, his jaw opened, unsure if he'd heard the name right.

"Are you still there, Captain?" the Governor asked.

Lou shook his mind to clarity. "Yeah, sure. I'm sorry. I'll call the team."

She thanked him and hung up.

It took him a few moments to let her words sink in as he wondered what Sabrina's death might mean. He was certain of one thing - someone didn't want them to find Steve and was willing to do anything to keep them silent.


	7. Chapter 7

Danny sensed movement behind him. He knew the attack was coming. He spun around, with a hand on his gun, but he was half a second too late. By the time his hand was halfway through drawing his gun, he'd faced a crew of four armed men.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," one of the men said, his voice stern.

Danny assumed he was the leader. All three of them were pointing their weapons at him.

"Your hands," the man ordered, not moving his sight from Danny.

Danny stared at the leader for a few seconds, then relented. There was no way he would move fast enough to shoot them before he'd get shot himself.

He held his hands in the air and one of the men came forward, somewhat nervously. He kept his eyes fixed on the man as he patted Danny down, taking his gun and a phone. When he was finished, Danny brought his hands down and the guy fixed Danny's wrists together with a plastic cable tie. He held the leader's gaze, his heart was beating frantically against his ribcage.

"We need to talk, Detective," the boss said, a sleek grin on his face.

"How about we grab a coffee tomorrow then? I've got something else to do now," Danny said, doing his best to appear unfazed.

"Yes, I know about your little reunion," he said. "But I can assure you your friend won't show up because he's dead. And if he's not… Well, he'll be soon. So there is no need to postpone our friendly chat."

Danny's heart skipped a beat. He had to do something, otherwise, this bastard might be right about Steve. His mind swirled. "I don't know what are you talking about," he lied, but he knew there was no point. They knew.

The men didn't say anything. The push from behind indicated Danny to move forward. He reluctantly walked toward the park exit, two men in front of him, two behind, a gun barrel wedged in his lower back. As they reached the exit, Danny caught a glimpse of two more men outside, idling by the parked cars.

Six armed men in total he'd now seen. Given Danny's position - unarmed and wrists tied together - he simply couldn't see a way to attack. But all the men wouldn't be traveling together in the same vehicle. Danny would just have to wait for the numbers to reduce.

The men shepherded Danny out into the street. Three of the armed men headed to the car in the back. Danny was pushed toward the front vehicle. One of the men reached forward and opened the door on the back passenger side, ready to shove Danny in.

When he was just two yards away though, Danny took a tumble, a little innocuous slip on the fragmented slabs underfoot that sent him down onto one knee. Immediately the two men surrounding Danny shouted at him and hauled him back up by his armpits. Danny pulled his weight down, making them work for it.

In all, it took them about three seconds to get Danny up and moving again. Not enough time to raise suspicion in the other men, who were still set on getting to the cars, but enough to give Danny a possible window of opportunity.

By the time Danny made it alongside the front car, his delay meant that four of the six men were already in the vehicles. Three in the one in the back and the driver of the car in front.

Six down to two was pretty good going. Danny knew it was his best chance.

He spun and lifted his bound wrists and crashed them down onto the neck of the man standing on his left. The guy folded like a house of cards.

A second later, Danny was armed with a handgun, though it wouldn't be easy to use it with his hands cable-tied together. His first shot took out the man on his right, a bullet catching him in the lower leg and causing him to collapse. Then a swift kick into his face was enough to take him out of the fight completely.

The driver in front of him reacted quickly and sprang open. Danny lunged for the driver and smashed the gun into his head twice, knocking him unconscious.

He took cover behind the car as the first two men from the vehicle in the back got out and opened fire. But the bullets missed their target and returning the fire, Danny took out both of them for good.

The driver in the back was the last one to react. Danny readjusted his aim and the bullet caught the man's gun, sending it sliding away from him. Danny pulled on the trigger, but only a dull click came out. He swore and let go of the gun, his eyes now on the last man of the crew.

The driver didn't bother to get his gun back. Instead, he pulled a shiny pocket knife from the holster on his leg and barrelled into Danny, whose only defense was lifting his forearms. The sharp blade cut through his flesh and blood seeped into the light fabric of his shirt.

Not a second later though, Danny had sidestepped and caught the man's wrist in his bound hands, snapped it, and taken control of the knife. He sent a punishing head butt onto the crown of the driver's nose, knocking him out.

Danny quickly cut the zip-ties on his wrists and rubbed his hands to get some feeling back into them. He stared at two dead and four unconscious men on the floor for a couple of seconds. His chest heaved from the exertion of the fight. His teeth were clenched and his head was on fire. He glanced over the watch. Eight minutes after he was supposed to meet Steve.

His chest tightened in fear with realization. Steve. They knew about him.

He sprang into the run and sprinted through the blackness, arms and legs pumping in a steady rhythm, his breaths deep and fast. His heart soon pounded from adrenaline and exertion. His eyes glancing around, desperately wanting to find his best friend.

But as he searched the area, it became apparent that no one was there. Wondering whether Steve had shown up while he was distracted with his attackers or not, Danny noticed something in the grass.

It was an old baseball cap and he was certain it wasn't there before. He crouched down and picked it up, his heart skipping a beat, recognizing it immediately. The white logo of Honolulu Shrimps on the red baseball hat could only mean one thing. It belonged to Steve, Danny was certain of it. It was the one Steve wore during Grace's baseball match and he had it ever since.

Steve must've been here.

"Steve?" he called out, rotating around his axis, his stomach a jumble of nerves. "Steve!"

The realization hit him in full force. It was a trap. They knew about the meeting and they used him to bring them to Steve and lure him out. This couldn't be happening. "Steve!" he yelled, but to no avail.

Acting purely on instinct, he picked up his pace and jogged through the park, heading to the nearest exit, calling his friend's name, his eyes darting from the side to the side.

He finally stopped running and bent over, hands on thighs, catching his breath. There was no point searching surrounding streets and he had to admit defeat. If they got him, they had most likely had a vehicle nearby and they were long gone.

He stood upright again on unsteady legs, his eyes still scanning for signs of Steve, although he knew it was pointless. He ran a hand over his sweaty forehead, his stomach twisting with fear.

He leaned against the tree on the landing as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. He'd tried to help his best friend, but he'd failed and brought those people straight to Steve instead. He had no idea where they'd taken him, if he was even still alive.

He slid to the ground, cradling Steve's hat in his hands, wrapped his arms around his knees, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. Steve was gone. Again. And it was all his fault this time.

* * *

It was almost eleven pm when Danny arrived at the HQ after calling HPD to the scene. But to his surprise, it wasn't empty. The whole team was gathered up around the smart table, which couldn't be a good sign at this time.

"What's going on? Why are you all still here?" he asked as he approached.

All the eyes in the room turned to him, the expressions on their faces changing to something between surprised and concerned as they registered his scruffy look and blood on his arm.

Lou's eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly as he scanned Danny. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Oh my God, Danny, are you all right?" Tani chimed in.

Danny gave Lou a short look, a silent answer to his question before he turned back to others. "Uh, I'm all right, it's just a scratch. Why are you here?"

"We've got a case," Junior answered. "The vic is Sabrina Lawson, the manager of Health International branch here in Honolulu."

He kept talking, but Danny couldn't hear the rest of the words that were coming from Junior's lips. He was too stunned by the fact that they've killed Sabrina. She was dead because he had too many questions.

"Danny?" Quinn said. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," he lied. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"I said we're going through the camera records in her office. Maybe we'll find something."

Danny frowned, knowing they'll see him visiting Sabrina this morning. He spun on his heel and headed to his office without a word. He was about to close the door behind him when he felt someone pushing against it to keep it open. It was Lou.

Lou walked into Danny's office and closed the door behind him, his forehead creased with worry, and stared at his colleague.

"They knew," Danny said, his words a mere whisper. He looked up into Lou's eyes, barely holding the tears back. "They knew, Lou. I don't know how but they found out about the meet and…" A quiet whimper escaped his lips.

"What are you saying? What happened in there?"

"They got him. They took Steve," Danny murmured, his fingertips massaging his temples in an attempt to stop the gnawing headache.

"Are you sure? Did you see him?"

Danny shook his head. "I didn't see him. But I'm sure. I know he was there and they took him. He is alive but I don't think he will be for much longer if I don't find him. You have to trust me, Lou."

"I do, okay? I do." Lou said, his eyes landing on Danny's bloody forearm. "Let me have a look at that."

Danny rolled up the blood-soaked sleeve and revealed the deep cut along his arm. "It's nothing," he said.

"It's not too bad, but we need to clean it up and stop the bleeding, all right?" Lou suggested.

Danny nodded in resignation. He waited for Lou to bring the first aid kit in silence, his head whirring, his chest tight. He had nothing. No idea where to start looking for Steve and the time was running out.

He let Lou clean and bandage his forearm while he explained what had happened in the park. When he was done talking, Adam knocked on the door and returned back to others.

They followed him to the rest of the group and stopped there, guilt written all over Danny's eyes as he waited for what he knew was about to come.

Junior's fingers danced around the keyboard for a few seconds, then the recording from Health International showed up on the screen. The record of Danny talking to Sabrina this morning.

* * *

They didn't take Steve far. Just a few miles from where he'd been attacked. He'd woken from unconsciousness in the back of a truck, with his hands tied up behind his back and a dark sack over his head, and was soon hauled out of there.

Although groggy from the tranquilizer still moving through his veins, Steve's mind was burning with thoughts as he was manhandled to wherever it was they were going, two goons holding his arms firmly and a barrel of a gun pressed into his back, nudging him forward.

And then he heard it. A familiar sound of the engines of what Steve supposed was Khalfani's private jet. That could only mean one thing. They wanted to bring him back to their boss. And that would mean game over. Not only for him.

Khalfani Iwu was a powerful man and he had friends in high places. If he wanted the plane to fly in the dark, he could've made one call and it was all done, ready to get Steve back to Africa. The problem was, Steve knew he had a far better chance of getting away while still in Hawaii. Because no-one captured by Khalfani had ever been seen again. Not even their bodies. And anyone asking too many questions was his next target.

His brain whirred, evaluating the situation. He couldn't do much with his hands behind his back, a sack over his head, and who knows how many armed men around him. Unwilling to give up without a fight though he buckled and managed to slip one of his arms out of the man's grip, but his protests only took a second.

One of the men pulled Steve into a headlock, his forearm tight up against Steve's neck. With Steve busy fighting the chokehold, the other men managed to subdue him, pinning his already bound limbs and torso.

The men moved forward in unison as Steve sputtered and gasped for air and fought for some control over his body. They hauled Steve up the stairs and into the back of the plane. The forearm around Steve's neck was whipped away and he was shoved hard in the back causing him to stumble forward.

No chance of him resuming the fight though. Immediately Steve was grabbed, shoved and pulled at. He lost his footing and crashed down onto the floor head first, his cheek and his eye socket taking the brunt of the force. The skin above Steve's eye split and soon his vision tinted red.

Steve fought back with everything he had, but his captors crowded around and over him, pinning him down, each of his limbs held firmly in place. There was weight on his back too, and a knee pushing down on his neck. Steve squirmed and fought, tried to gain leverage, anything that might give him a chance of fending the men off.

It was simple maths though. Steve was seriously outnumbered, bound, and his attackers weren't amateurs. Their actions didn't give Steve any chance of fighting back.

He tried to buckle again, but someone out of sight jabbed a syringe into his backside. Then that person pushed the syringe plunger, which sent a cold liquid into Steve's bloodstream. He felt it spread out from his rear, down his legs, along his spine, and into his head. Within seconds, he was unconscious.

* * *

Danny stood and watched the confusion amongst the team grow as they stared at the screen in front of them.

"Would you like to explain what is going on here?" Tani asked, her voice firm.

Swallowing, Danny looked at Lou, who gave him a slight nod and sighed. There was no point in hiding the information he had now. Steve's secret was revealed anyway and he needed as much help as he could get to find his best friend on time.

The worried expressions full of questions sat on the faces of his team. He took a deep breath and explained everything. The photo, the note, an attempt to kidnap Mary, talking to Sabrina, going to meet Steve, being attacked and Steve being taken.

When he got to the end of the story, no one called him crazy or told him he needed help, as he expected. They just stared at him, deep in thoughts for a moment, letting everything sink in.

"I know it sounds surreal and crazy. But I know Steve is still alive. I think the plane was tampered with. Brought down on purpose somehow because he found out about something happening in Africa. Something that must be really bad if people are being murdered because of it."

"Well, there is a lot of corrupt shit going on in Africa," Junior was the first one to speak. "Blood, diamonds, gold, poaching. When you've got those kinds of natural resources, it's rife. Then again, all governments are corrupt. Maybe Africa is just more honest about its corruption. What do you know about that place?"

"Not much. Health International got involved out there because of massacres going on with rebels who want to overthrow the government. Villages being destroyed, people murdered."

"I thought Steve went there to clear his head," Tani said.

"Yeah, but if he got involved in this stuff instead, there must've been a reason," Lou chimed in. "You all know McGarrett. If there is a crime against the innocent people, he won't just close his eyes and pretend nothing is going on. My guess is he'd joined the fight that wasn't his and it had gotten out of control."

"That's why I need to go there and find out more." Danny's words silenced the whole group for a few moments.

Quinn shook her head. "That would be crazy. If there is a civil war going on, it would be far too dangerous."

"It can't be any more dangerous than here. Those people are already after me. I talked to Steve's friend over there, a doctor called Pete Martin, but he says he doesn't know anything. Their local contact, Adama, isn't answering his phone, but I need to find him. He was the last person Steve called on his phone, so I'm sure he knows something about what happened to him and he might be able to help me find Steve. I think Sabrina was murdered because she knew something. And someone called me from and warned me about Khalfani Iwu. I think he's involved and the government is covering up what really happened to Steve out there."

"If the government is included, you won't find out anything. And if you end up talking to the wrong person, they'll take you out too," Adam said.

"But I've got to try, all right? Either the meeting today was some kind of setup to get to me. Or those men managed to capture Steve. Or he got away and could be anywhere by now."

"Danny-"

"The only way to find Steve is to find out what's going on and who's responsible. I need answers. And I think the only way to get them is to go to Africa where this all started."

"But, Danny-"

"I have to find him," he raised his voice. Was it madness to go to Africa? To the very heart of where he was convinced this thing started? Where even the government couldn't be trusted to tell the truth? Probably. But he had no choice and no better ideas. His facial features softened with his next words. "I've lost Steve once, I… I can't lose him again."

After a short moment of silence, Junior began typing something on the keyboard and an article showed up on the screen. "Apparently, they have no diamonds, no precious metal mines, no records of ivory or rhino horn poaching, no oil," he read out loud.

"So what are they protecting? It must be something important. Something worth a lot of money," Quinn said.

Junior kept reading. "Most of their revenue comes from cocoa plantations. That's their only official export. Not exactly worth all this trouble, is it?"

"It might have to do something with drugs," Adam chimed in. "You were warned not to trust Khalfai Iwu. He's the head of the secret police. Steve must've discovered Khalfani was involved in some government corruption out there to export drugs. It looks like Colombian and Mexican cartels are moving into West Africa now. Seems like it could become the new epicenter of drug trafficking. If Steve found out about it and was going to expose it, they'd want him dead. "

"No, I don't think Steve would chase cartels over there. That's what he was trying to get away from when he'd left," Danny opposed.

"Okay so if it's not about the drugs, what exactly did Steve find out then?" Tani frowned at the screen.

Junior tapped his fingers on the edge of the table, a look of concentration on his face, and said, "There's not much chatter coming out of the country about the war going on out there. Seems like they're keeping a tight lid on things. But Steve helped to set up the hospital, right? I mean, there must've been people coming in there. Maybe one of them told Steve something somebody didn't want him to know."

"Or maybe he saw something he wasn't supposed to," Lou added.

Danny closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead, his fingertips brushing his hair. A picture of Steve shimmered between his eyelids.

"Danny if you go out there and start asking questions, you could either get caught up in a crossfire with rebels or be targeted by the government or cartels. It would be crazy," Quinn said.

Danny opened his eyes. "I don't have a choice. I need answers and this is the only way to get them and find Steve."

The rest of the team looked at him as if he'd just told them the world was flat.

"You should understand why I have to do this. It's Steve. I thought I've lost him and now..." he paused. "Now he's alive and captured by those people."

Sour looks on the faces of his colleagues told him they weren't really convinced. Adam was the first one to gather enough courage to say what they were all thinking.

"Look, I hate to say it, but you can't even know he's alive. You said yourself the meeting could've been a setup by those thugs to get to you. You never actually saw him, did you?"

Danny had to take a deep breath to control the tears threatening to form. "I know he is alive."

"Know? Or hope?" Quinn agreed with Adam.

"Even if Steve is alive and the meet was genuinely organized by him, why go to Africa when he's most likely still in Hawaii? Why not look for him here?" Tani asked.

"You're not listening to me!" Danny blew out a frustrated breath and threw his hands in the air. "He is alive, you have to trust me. Those people tried to kill him. They had kidnapped him because of something that happened in there. And I've got no way of finding out who they are and where they've taken him unless I get answers."

Junior nodded, meeting Danny's determined gaze. "Okay," he said. "If you want to do this, then we at least need some preparation. I think Kamekona will know someone who can get us some false passports."

"Whoa, stop right there, Junior," Danny said. "There is no us, all right? You're not going, none of you. I can't put you in such danger."

"With all due respect, Sir, if you're right and Steve really is alive, then he needs our help. And I'm not going to wait and do nothing."

"You won't make it on your own, Danny," Tani agreed. "We're going with you."

"No, you're not. I need you guys to stay here and find out everything you can about those thugs who attacked me today. You have to find Sabrina's killer and find out what he knows about all this. And I need you to stay and look for Steve here."

"Yeah, you're right, someone should stay here. Plus, a group of Americans would stand out quite a lot in Africa," Junior added. "But I'm not letting you go alone. I'm still going with you."

Danny gave him a sad smile. He really appreciated Junior's offer to help, but he didn't want to risk any more lives. "Look, I know nothing about West Africa, other than if you're mixing with Colombian or Mexican drug cartels, they aren't exactly Mary Poppins. Throw in a load of government corruption into the mix and we could just disappear for good. We'd be unarmed without knowing who to trust." Danny knew it was insane but he was going anyway. "You don't have to risk that much, Junior. But I don't have a choice. He's like my brother. I'm not leaving him in the hands of those people."

"I know I don't have to," the young ex-SEAL replied promptly. "But I want to. I owe him that much. Please, let me come with you. I can handle myself. I've been through all kinds of stuff back in teams and I'll be helpful."

Danny didn't doubt it for a second. The kid was like a younger version of Steve and had the same training as his stubborn partner.

Adam sighed, still not looking convinced. "I'm not sure this is a good idea, Danny. But I trust you. Let's do it."

"I'm going too," Lou said.

"I'm in," Quinn joined.

"Yeah, if you're right, you'll need all the help you can get," Tani said.

They all looked at him, waiting for the response. He met Junior's gaze and held it for a moment, then gave him a slight nod. "Go get ready, kid," he said and glanced around the rest of the team. "You guys will be more helpful here. I really need you to find the person who killed Sabrina and get the information about his boss out of him."

Lou's hand squeezed Danny's shoulder and made him look at his older colleague.

"Okay. And Danny, if Steve is alive, we'll find him," Lou said. "Just be careful out there."

"Yeah," Danny answered, his voice shaking.

He needed to find his friend and bring him home before he'll lose him again. Even if he'd have to travel across the globe and look for the answers in there.


	8. Chapter 8

Danny stared at the passport photo of his new himself: Mason Taylor. The fake was so good, he couldn't tell it from a real one, but then he wasn't an expert in this field. He just had to hope that the document would pass muster with the border control. Once outside Hawaii, he didn't think the immigration officers in West Africa would look too hard at it, but he and Junior had to make it out of the country first.

They shuffled through the queue that led to passport control at Honolulu airport, Danny's mind wandering all over the place.

Junior gently touched his shoulder to move him forwards. Danny had been so lost in worry he hadn't realized there was a huge gap in front of him.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," Junior said reassuringly.

But Danny wasn't convinced. Everything he thought he knew had come crashing at him in a matter of days. He was sure his best friend was alive but as far away from him as before. And people wanted him dead.

He stepped up to the booth and presented a passport to the officer, offering him a wobbly smile. The officer looked up at him with a stern face, then down at the passport. Then he'd handed it back without a smile. Danny waited for Junior, who followed him a minute later.

They found a quiet spot with some empty seats and Danny put his rucksack on the floor next to Junior's. They were traveling light. The plan was to get in and out as quickly as possible, with answers that would help them find Steve.

Danny glanced at the watch. They had another hour before the flight.

"You okay?" Junior met his gaze.

"Never been better," Danny quipped, his stomach roiling.

* * *

Steve's mind was swimming with thoughts as the vehicle he'd been in finally stopped. It took a single but long flight and another long ride to get him here. In a few seconds, after the vehicle had stopped moving, someone removed the textile bag from his head and shouted something in a language he recognized, but didn't understand. By now he was certain about his location - he was back where it had all started.

The two guards uncuffed him for whatever reason, but immediately they grasped Steve's arms, twisting his limbs against his back so his hands were up towards his shoulders. As Steve bucked against the hold, the men heaved him off his feet and pulled him into the old building, then marched him toward the stinking cell block.

The police station or maybe some kind of prison? It made sense, though. Khalfani was the head of secret police and he could legally do almost anything he wanted to. The guards pulled Steve into the small cell. Steve fought and squirmed but the only way out of the hold was if he wanted a dislocated elbow or shoulder.

Inside the cell, Khalfani and three of his men were standing in wait. One of the goons kicked out Steve's legs and pushed him down onto the knees. Another thick arm wrapped around his neck, squeezing hard, making Steve splutter and choke. Three men were now pinning him in place.

Khalfani stood over Steve, staring at him with a half-smile.

"Welcome back, Commander. I thought we'd try having a friendly talk again," Khalfani said.

Steve grunted but didn't say a word. At that moment, he was more concerned about breathing than talking.

"Let's cut straight to the business, shall we? I believe you didn't keep our little secret to yourself. Who did you tell?" Khalfani asked.

Steve couldn't have answered even if he wanted to. This simple fact seemed to dawn on Khalfani, who nodded to whoever was stationed behind Steve.

"Who else knows about it?" Khalfani snarled.

Steve coughed and spluttered, gasping for air. "Go to hell," he said, a defiant look in his eyes. Apparently, that was the wrong answer.

Khalfani lunged forward. Steve hadn't seen until that point, but Khalfani was gripping a metal knuckleduster. He swung his fist forward and the metal slammed into Steve's jaw, sending his head wobbling and his eyes rolling. The blow took out a tooth and split the inside of Steve's mouth. Blood dribbled from his lips, down his chin.

It took Steve a few seconds to recover from the blow before he found the strength and focus to spit out the broken tooth and the mouthful of blood.

"Let me try one more time," Khalfani said. "Who else knows about it?"

"No one," Steve slurred. He cleared his throat, spat out more blood. "I didn't tell anyone."

"See, I don't believe you," Khalfani said. "Why were you about to meet Williams then? How much does he know?"

Steve's heart skipped a beat. He fought not to show the turmoil inside him and keep his face uninterested. But the scene from the park flooded his mind and fear tightened his chest. There was no sign of Danny when Steve arrived at the scene and that could only mean two things - they either took him to find out how much does he know or… Steve shoved that thought into the back of his skull.

He'd been so selfish and he'd led Khalfani's men to Danny. He'd put his best friend in danger. If Danny didn't manage to get away, Steve had practically killed him himself. His heart was shredded into pieces but he couldn't show them how much he cared about Danny. He kept his face neutral and his bleeding mouth shut.

"Look, there is no need to die over this," Khalfani continued. "I know about the video. I don't know how, but I know you've managed to keep a copy of it. Tell me where it is and who else knows about what you've seen and maybe I'll let you go when this is all over."

Steve scoffed. Khalfani would have to try harder than that. The last time he said he'd let him go, he'd tried to kill him by tampering with the plane and three innocent people had died in a crash.

Khalfani came forward again, another strike with the knuckleduster. Steve bowed his head when he saw the fist coming and his skull rather than his face took the brunt of the blow. It was a reflexive reaction more than anything, to save his face, but the strike caused his brain to rattle inside, making Steve nauseous.

"Okay. We'll have to ask around to find out. Maybe I'll have a little chat with the rest of your friends." Khalfani's voice bounced inside Steve's skull. "But there is one more thing I'd like to know. You and your friends took something that didn't belong to you. Where did you hide it?"

Steve's blood boiled in his veins from anger that coursed through him. It? Did Khalfani really just called them _it_? "They don't belong to anybody," he answered, doing his best to lift his head up and look into his captor's eyes. "And you'll never find them."

Khalfani threw his fist forward again, this time to Steve's chest. Steve's ribs offered some protection but the blow still forced the air out of his lungs and sent his heart beating out of time.

Steve tried to lift his head, coughing. He spluttered. His eyes were rolling again. He tried to catch his breath, rasping and wheezing. He couldn't manage it.

With his eyes sloshing around like they were no longer attached, Steve's head collapsed forward. His body slumped down, every muscle suddenly relaxing, his mass only remaining suspended because of the men who were still holding onto him.

But Steve wasn't just unconscious. He'd stopped breathing. At least that was the cheap ploy he was trying. He had to try something.

Steve's body was loose and still. He held his breath. The only indication he was still alive was the pulse of his heart. Would the men notice that? The throbbing in the side of his neck? Or would they release their grip on Steve to check him properly?

Fortunately for Steve, it was the latter. It was the sensible course of action for the men to take.

"Let go of him," Khalfani ordered.

He sounded rattled. Clearly the intent hadn't been to kill Steve yet. Not without any useful information.

When the arm was taken away from around Steve's neck, he felt like breaking out into a smile. When his arms were released a moment after, he actually did.

Steve's loose body began to crumble to the ground. Before he hit the mottled concrete floor, he made his move. In a blur of action, Steve spun, swiping at the legs of one of the guards who'd been holding him. The guard was falling as Steve continued in a fluid motion. Steve's knee caught the falling guard under his chin, then, up in a half-crouch, Steve sent his elbow crashing into the throat of the man who'd been holding his neck.

The second guard was pulling on his baton. By now he'd had enough time to realize what was happening, but not enough to react as needed before Steve attacked. Springing upright, Steve grabbed the guard's wrist, twisted, and delivered the head butt into the crown of guard's nose.

In the time it had taken Steve to get up from the floor, he'd taken out three men, who were now on the ground, unconscious. The remaining two grunts in front of Steve weren't about to stand by idly watching, though. They were already coming forward.

Steve didn't notice the knives in their hands until it was too late. The taller man came forward first and Steve threw up his arm in defense. The blade slashed across his bicep. Just a second later, Steve caught his attacker's wrist and twisted it painfully, sending the weapon sliding through the floor out of the reach. He delivered a quick punch into the guy's face and sent him out of the fight.

But out-positioned, Steve couldn't do anything as the other guy slashed the knife across his back. Steve grimaced and spun. He saw the knife coming for him a second time, toward his belly. Steve had just enough time to dodge it. He shimmered and slammed his elbow into the back of the guy's head.

That was five men down and out. Just Khalfani remaining.

Steve stared at him, chest heaving, blood pouring from his mouth, his arm, and his back.

Khalfani stood there, no look of concern. The confidence he saw in Khalfani's eyes sent a wave of doubt through Steve. Had he underestimated Khalfani somehow?

There was a brief and silent standoff. Was Khalfani just going to stand there?

"Impressive," Khalfani said. "But it's time to give it up. You don't stand a chance, Commander. This building is full of armed men. You'd never make it out of here." His voice was calm and confident.

Steve knew Khalfani was probably right. The corrupt police officers and guards were under Khalfani's thumb and they definitely wouldn't help a stranger. Quite the opposite. But what was he supposed to do? Giving up wasn't in his DNA. Steve's eyes shifted from Khalfani to the floor, to the pocket knife that was close enough to him. He sidestepped and quickly picked it up from the floor. That's when he heard the boots of more men behind his back, then their shouts. Steve froze. A wide grin now covered Khalfani's face.

A guard behind him shouted something to Steve. He didn't understand, but he assumed the guard wanted him to drop the knife.

Steve sighed in defeat and did as he was told. He turned around, his hands above his head, to find himself staring at a mini-army of uniformed guards, a rifle barrel inches from his face.

Seconds later, Steve was in cuffs again and the guards dragged him along the concrete, his ankles scraping painfully as they moved toward the exit.

Where exactly they were headed now, Steve didn't know.

* * *

Junior nudged him awake just before they landed in Mali. Danny rubbed at his face to chase away the remaining sleep and ran a wet wipe over it. Despite everything that had happened, he did manage to succumb to sleep, but it was restless.

"You all right?" Junior asked.

Danny just nodded because he didn't trust himself to speak. Butterflies resumed their dance in his stomach. He wasn't really sure if he'd find Steve here. But he hoped he'd at least find answers which would take him one step closer to knowing what had happened to his best friend and where they might've taken him.

After passing through the passport control, they headed outside and made their way to a taxi rank. The driver at the front of the line stepped forward and said, "Welcome to Mali. I got good taxi. Take you where you need to go."

Junior told him their destination.

"Where you flying to?"

"Just across the border," Danny said.

"You doctors?" he asked when they got inside the car. "They the only people going there now. The rebels make it too dangerous for people."

"No. We're administrators, overseeing the health center down there," Danny said. That would be their cover story if anyone asked. They worked for Health International and were doing an inventory mission to see if the health center needed further supplies.

"What areas have the rebels taken control of?" Junior asked as they slid in the back seat.

"The middle of the country, but they moving further north now. People being killed. Villages burnt to the ground. Bad men. Very bad men."

"Do you know who is in control of them?" Danny asked.

The driver glanced in the rear-view mirror and caught Danny's gaze. He looked scared. Then he glanced quickly back to the road, ignoring Danny's question. "Not good to ask too many things."

When they arrived at the small building for light aircraft departures, the cheery look was back on the driver's face. Junior paid him and added a generous tip.

"Thank you. You be careful down there. The rebels… they working for the inside." The driver tapped his nose secretively, and before they could ask any more, he jumped in the cab and drove off.

Danny and Junior looked at each other.

"A coup of some kind?" Danny asked.

"Wouldn't surprise me. Jealousy, rivalry, tribal or religious differences, Africa's notorious for coups. It's no different to the West, really, except we just have the illusion of choice in our politicians."

They stepped inside. A woman with braided hair checked them in for their flight and half an hour later, they were the only passengers on an aircraft built for six. Danny wondered if this was the same kind of plane Steve was supposed to have been on when he'd apparently died. A jolt of terror hit him in the chest at what these people were capable of. He tried to ignore it and stared out of the window for an hour-long flight as he watched the capital disappear and be replaced by thick, seemingly endless bush. Danny was pretty sure this was the area where Steve's plane went down, and he pressed his forehead against the glass for a better look.

Eventually, the bush petered out into sporadic areas, and Danny could see the remains of torched villages, blackened and burnt, materials scattered on the ground. He questioned the sanity of his decision to come out here. It was dangerous, possibly deadly. But it was the best way to find Steve.

Danny shook the thought away as the horrible sights were replaced by the lush green trees of the cocoa plantations.

Thirty minutes later, they landed in the last place Steve had been seen alive.

* * *

Adjoua shuffled her paperwork together on the plastic desk, then stepped towards the glass doors overlooking the runway to watch the light aircraft arriving. She wished she could get on it and fly away somewhere else. She sighed as she spotted two passengers disembark, still dreaming of escape. The trouble was, she needed money to get away and start a new life but she didn't have enough.

So it was money she was thinking of when she first saw the white man with someone else coming out of the aircraft. She gasped. Was it him?

She squirmed against the sunshine and watched the man heading toward her, smiling as she opened the door for them, studying carefully to be sure. "Welcome to Lagossa."

"Thanks," the white man replied, looking around. "No passport control?"

"No. I check the passports." It was a small airport and there was no point in paying extra personnel waiting for the two flights per day.

The younger man handed in his passport. She studied the name, Dean Townsend. She handed it back, then took the blonde man's one. Mason Taylor. She looked at the photograph. Looked at the man. In the other photograph, Adjoua had been shown, he'd looked a little different, but she was certain it was him.

Adjoua kept the smile in place as she handed it back, then fixed her gaze on them as they walked through the building towards the exit. She rushed to her locker, pulled out her mobile phone and dialed, then strode towards the exit doors, still watching.

When the man answered the phone, she whispered, "I think I've just seen McGarrett's friend."


	9. Chapter 9

As the guards dragged Steve away from their boss, it crossed his mind more than once that maybe the guards were taking him away to a more private location to exact a further beating to get the answers. Or, even worse, maybe they did have it in them to subject him to the kind of torture that would break any man. Khalfani held power over everything that happened in this country, and he also knew full well how brutal and ruthless his men can be.

The guards hauled Steve through to a different wing of the building that was even dingier and more decrepit than the one he'd come from. There were no windows of any sort here. They took Steve down a flight of stairs and thrust him into a cell.

The doors slammed and Steve took in his surroundings. There was no natural light in the cell - or in the corridor outside. The cell would have been black were it not for the small service flap in the otherwise solid metal door, which had been left open and through which a faint beam of electric light from the corridor seeped in. The thin illumination cast a sinister glow on the neglected space. It was small, barely seven by seven feet, and empty. The concrete floor, the walls too, were covered in scratch marks and a thick layer of grime.

With his hands bound in a painful position behind his back, Steve was left alone - for a number of hours, he thought. He was wounded after the encounter with Khalfani and the futile attempt to fight. The cut in his mouth was at least severe. The two slashes - to his arm and to his back - were just flesh wounds, but they would need stitches to minimize the chance of infection Steve was certain would set in given the filthy conditions. It was the blows he'd taken to the head though that were the most immediately debilitating. Steve was concussed, and more than once he drifted off - to sleep or into unconsciousness, he wasn't quite sure. Nonetheless, it made keeping track of time impossible.

* * *

A black Toyota was parked outside the airport. A black man whose age was hard to tell leaned against the passenger doors, arms folded, watching their approach.

"It that the guy you talked about?" Danny asked. During the flight, Junior told him about the call he'd made to his friend who'd managed to find them a local contact.

"One way to find out." Junior smiled at the man. "You're Yakouba, right?"

The man smiled back. "No. Yakouba is my brother. I'm Siaka."

Junior nodded, satisfied the code he'd arranged via his contact had worked.

Siaka opened the rear passenger door and they got in. He jumped into the driver's seat and twisted around to face them as if he was waiting for something.

Junior reached into his pocket and pulled out a brown envelope filled with dollars. "That's half of what we agreed. You look after us and you get the other half when you drop us back at the airport." Junior handed it over.

Siaka opened the envelope and looked inside. "Yeah, man. Wherever you need to go, I look after you."

"We're going to a medical centre outside of the town," Danny said.

Siaka started the engine and drove off. "So you're checking the center, right?"

"That's right," Junior said.

"You need to be careful down there. The rebels are getting closer. Plenty of people from the villages found their way down here to get help. Those men are monsters."

"Did you get some guns for us?" Junior asked. "We need some kind of protection here."

Siaka shook his head. "No guns. The rebels got them all."

"What about a knife?" Junior asked.

Siaka shrugged. "You'll be okay. You're with me." He reached down into the front passenger footwell and picked up a machete, before slicing it through the air theatrically.

Danny's eyes widened as he stared at it. It looked sharp enough to slice their heads clean off.

They drove for around thirty minutes, passing through the small town. After that came bush, and finally there was a sign for Health International Medical Centre on their left. After a couple of miles, it opened into a clearing with two huge white tents, surrounded by smaller tents.

"This is it," Siaka announced.

"You wait for us here, yes?" Junior asked.

"Sure, man. The doctor's tent is the big tent there." Siaka pointed in the direction.

Danny exchanged glances with Junior and then noticed a middle-aged man sliding through the flaps of the larger tent with a plastic bag of medicine in his hand. He was dressed in blue scrubs, his blond hair covered with a plastic surgeon's cap.

He noticed them and said, "Please wait a minute and I'll be with you," before disappearing into another tent and coming back empty-handed. "You are injured?" His eyes scanned them in a practiced appraisal.

"No, We're…" Danny paused. Now that they were here, he wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't sure this man would believe him. "You're Pete Martin, aren't you?"

He nodded and then squinted at Danny. "Danny?"

Danny nodded. They'd never met, but he guessed Steve had shown him some photo of him.

"What are you doing here?" Pete asked, surprised.

"I was hoping to speak to Adama and some of Steve's friends about…" Danny stopped abruptly, still hesitant to ask questions he really needed answers to. Steve was missing. Sabrina was dead. Mary and him were attacked and almost kidnapped. It was time to be honest now and that meant sharing what he knew. "This is going to sound like a strange story."

Pete tilted his head, studied him casually. "Maybe you should tell me your strange story over some coffee? I think you had a long journey."

"Thanks."

Pete nodded decisively and pointed at the small tent nearby. "Staff quarters." He led them inside, exposing tables and chairs, a couple of fridges, and an elderly woman sitting at one table washing dishes in a blue plastic bowl.

Pete pressed a hand to the woman's shoulder lightly. "We have some guests, Mariam. Is there any chance of a coffee?"

"Yes, doctor." Mariam stood and walked behind a wooden counter towards a small gas burner.

"Please, have a seat." Pete sat at one of the tables.

Danny wiped away the sweat on his brow and sat opposite him with Junior on his right. "What did you hear about Steve's accident?"

Pete's gaze drifted between Danny and Junior before settling back on Danny. "Just that he died in the plane crash. It's very tragic."

"Well, the thing is, I don't think he was on the plane. I'm sure he survived."

Pete raised his eyebrows, shocked. "Why would you think that?"

"It's a long story."

"O-kay," Pete said hesitantly.

"We think he discovered something that was going out here," Junior added. "He must've seen or heard something. Something that was important enough to some people who were prepared to kill him over it. Sabrina Lawson has now also been murdered."

"Sabrina?" Pete's eyes widened. "She's dead?"

"You hadn't heard?" Danny asked.

"No. It takes a while for things to get filtered out here. That's just awful." Pete paused. "Did you know Adama, one of us and Steve's friend had gone missing?"

"I've been trying to contact him," Danny said, thinking it was likely something bad had happened to him.

"I wasn't too worried. But I hope he's okay." Pete pressed his lips together. "You said you think Steve was alive, right? Why hadn't he let us know then?"

"That's what we are trying to figure out. But I don't think he is alive. I know he is. I think he'd been hiding for this whole time for some reason," Danny said, meeting Pete's eyes. "But I've got a reason to believe he was kidnapped almost three days ago by the same people who are behind the thing he'd discovered or seen."

Pete shook his head. "That's just terrible. Something is obviously going on. I mean, Steve, then Adama and now Sabrina? Do you think we're in danger here? I mean, from something other than the rebels?"

"I really don't know," Danny said. "But it would help if you don't tell anyone we're here."

"The only people who seem to be in danger are those who know something about whatever it is Steve discovered," Junior added.

"I'm not sure how I can help you because I have absolutely no knowledge of anything like that. Steve didn't mention anything at all."

The woman making coffee appeared and placed the mugs on the table with a bowl of sugar.

"Thanks." Danny looked up at her.

She gave him a sad smile.

"Sorry, there's no milk. We've run out of supplies. Adama usually handles things like that but…" Pete shook his head. "Sabrina is dead and Adama is missing. This is terrible. I need to speak to head office and find out what to do about this."

"Are you aware of any trafficking of illegal drugs going on out here?" Junior asked.

Pete pressed his lips together and shook his head. "I barely get time to leave the centre. And when I do, it'll be for a quick trip into the only bar in town and back. We're out in the middle of nowhere here." He shrugged. "But I haven't seen or heard anything like that going on." He picked up his mug. "We have three nurses here and two guards. Two doctors including me. And Steve and Adama used to help with anything else that was necessary. They used to go out more often." He took a sip of his coffee. "You can ask our staff any questions. But I really think someone would've mentioned it before if they knew anything like that."

Danny smiled his thanks at him and took a sip of bitter coffee. "What do you know about the rebels' demands?"

Pete sucked in a breath. "The local guards talk to us about it. They say they think the head of the secret police is behind what's going on."

"Khalfani Iwu?" Danny asked.

"Yes. Since he became the head of the police a little over a year ago, things went down the hill really quickly. They say he wants to take over from the president. The rebels are stampeding their way through the country, destroying villages. The people who turn up here for treatment are those who don't oppose a new regime change. Any adults who are against it are annihilated so they can't find back and their children are kidnapped. The women… " Pete looked at them with sadness. "Most of the women arriving here have been raped. The trouble is escalating."

"The children… are they kidnapped to become soldiers?" Junior asked.

"I would guess so. Child soldiers are not uncommon in Africa." Pete scratched his chin. "Do you think they got involved with the rebels or the secret police?"

"That's possible, yes," Danny said, thinking about what he'd just been told.

"Well, I'm sorry to say that, but if you're right and Steve was really taken by those people three days ago, then he's dead by now. The rebels don't keep prisoners. I've heard they use brutal ways to get the information they want and then kill them in a painful manner. If they don't speak, the rebels kill them anyway."

Danny's heart flinched. That's not what he wanted to hear. But maybe they were wrong. Maybe the rebels weren't behind Steve's plane crash after all.

A young woman dressed in identical scrubs rushed into the tent and said, "Sorry, Dr. Martin, but we need you in the ward."

Pete slammed his mug on the table and said, "Sorry, emergency," before he rushed out following the nurse.

"Come on, let's talk to the other staff." Danny took a final swig of coffee and stood.

As Junior got up to follow him, Mariam strolled into their paths and held her hand up to them. "Wait. I can help you," she whispered.

As Danny and Junior approached the woman behind the kitchen counter, her gaze wasn't on them but kept steady on the open flaps of the tent, watching for someone or something.

"What do you know?" Danny asked.

She looked at them then, and Danny noticed for the first time she had an ugly scar running from beneath her right ear to her chin. It was still an angry raised red, as if it was fairly recent.

"Adama was my friend. He was a good man. Very good man. He try to help people all the time. He got me this job."

Danny nodded encouragingly.

"Now he's dead. They kill him."

"You know who did it?" Junior asked.

Her eyes welled up. She blinked rapidly. "You know what is going on here?" But before they could answer, she wiped her tears and shook her head. "No, of course not. People don't really know. Someone came before. A journalist from Europe. She was asking questions, and then disappeared. They killed her too. Anyone who asks questions is in danger. Our president… he started off as a good man. But he don't care no more. He get rich, but people they poor. The people unhappy, you know?"

"Is this about the drugs?" Junior asked.

She squinted up at them. "This is about cocoa."

"Cocoa?" Danny frowned, waiting for it to sink in.

"Yes. The only industry here is the cocoa bean, and the government controls it all. all. They set the price of the beans they give the farmers very low. Then they sell the beans to the foreign companies. The big chocolate people. The president, he get greedy, and he want to make more money, so he reduce the price he give to the farmers for beans and put up their taxes. Then he charge more to the chocolate people to buy them." She pursed her lips, looking between Junior and Danny to make sure they got it.

"So. Steve found out about what… government corruption here?" Danny asked.

"More than that. The farmers all poor, they barely make enough money from the cacao. But when the government tax them more and reduce the price to buy from them, now the farmer make no profit, so they need to do something about it, but they don't know what. But there is man in secret police, he have all the answers for them."

"Khalfani Iwu," Junior said.

"Yes. He thinks he is God, but he is a devil. Adama tell me Khalfani Iwu work out way to change everything so it's better for him and he can get the people on his side." Her gaze drifted to the tent flap and then back to them. "Iwu start his own rebel army and supply the weapons with money from one of the big chocolate companies. Iwu tell the rebels if they overthrow the president, he take over and he make things better for the people. He give the farmer more profit and put money into the country. But the rebels, they get too crazy. They start burning people villages. They burned mine." Tears welled up in her eyes. "They kill my husband." Her head dropped to her chest, her shoulders heaving up and down as she struggled to contain her tears. "They try to kill me." She touched the scar on her jaw. "I just manage to escape, but now they take everything away from me."

Junior reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder, casting a sad glance at Danny.

"They …" She sniffed and looked up again with watery eyes. "They kill the men who fight back so they can't stop Iwu taking over. The children, they kidnap and take to cocoa farms to work. And they are not allowed to leave. They keep them there as slaves."

Danny sucked in a horrified breath.

"So, the farmer happy now, because he get free labour from children slaves and make more profit. And he think he will make more when Iwu come to power and put up prices he pay them and cut their taxes. The rebels happy because they getting money and food and power from Iwu. But everything get worse for the other people who are even poorer now and have lost their families."

"How did Steve get involved in this?" Danny asked, his heart clenching with sadness for her.

"Adama and Steve was good friends. You don't know who to trust here. Iwu and his secret police have eyes everywhere. But Adama, he trust your friend. He know Steve was good man." She reached out and clenched Danny's hand with surprising strength. "Adama tell him what is happening, and Steve want to help. Adama took him to some of the plantations to show him the child slaves. Your friend film everything. Adama also have friends in government who make secret recordings of Khalfani Iwu and the chocolate people talking. Adama wanted Steve to take it back to America. Do something about it. Tell the world what is happening and try to help us."

"And Khalfani Iwu discovered what they were doing?" Junior asked.

"Yes. But that is not all. When Adama and Steve was on plantation, they risked their lives to save as many children as they could meanwhile. They took them somewhere safe. And Khalfani Iwu don't like it."

Danny squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Of course that sound like his best friend. He'd do the same if the roles were reversed.

"They help many children," she said. "But now they are both gone."

"Which plantations did they go to?" Danny asked. "Do you have any names?"

"There are many here. But the last one Steve and Adama went to was Pinta Plantation."

Danny took a deep breath. "Steve didn't get on that plane, did he?"

"No. At airport, Iwu take Steve's equipment, but Steve get away. Adama think they mess with the plane. Make it go down or maybe not put enough fuel in. People ask questions if a white person go missing, they asked when the journalist disappeared, and Iwu didn't want that to happen again. If a plane go down instead, it is accident and people not ask questions."

Danny clenched his fists with the thought.

"Steve got off the plane because he suspicious. He call Adama and tell him what happen. There is old track that go round the border into Mali – no guards there – so Adama smuggle him across. Adama get false passport for him so they can't trace him. Iwu, he tell Steve at airport if he tells anything, they will kill his family."

Danny took another deep breath and nodded. "That's why Steve didn't contact us? He was hiding for ten months to make sure they weren't watching us to see if he'd told us anything before he was supposed to have been killed? To make sure it was safe to get in touch again?"

"He was hiding because they didn't have enough evidence against Iwu then," she said. "But now, Adama is dead, Khalfani Iwu must have found everything he had and destroyed it."

"What I don't understand is if Steve and Adama thought it was finally all right to let Danny know Steve was safe, what changed?" Junior asked. "Somehow, Iwu's men knew Steve was still alive."

"Because they finally found the plane," she said.

* * *

It took Steve's brain a few seconds to make out where was he after he'd opened his eyes. But soon enough, he was forced to close his eyes again because of the searing pain in his head. He held his eyes tightly shut, waiting for the stabbing to subside. It didn't go away entirely, but after a few seconds, once it had dulled, he opened his eyes again.

He was laying on the ground, up against the wall at the back of the cell. He slowly, painfully, hauled himself up to sitting position. His whole body ached. Possibly from the beating from the guards. Sleeping on the cold, hard concrete floor with hands bound behind his back certainly wouldn't have helped.

Steve's stomach rumbled loudly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten or drank. It must've been a long time ago, back in Hawaii, before he was about to meet his best friend. He licked his chapped, dry lips, but there was no moisture left in his mouth.

He had no idea how long he'd sat there, his mind taking him back a few months, when he heard the footsteps approaching. Their boots sounded thick and heavy against the hard floor. Then came voices. And in a few seconds, he saw a barrel of a gun poked through the flap in the door.

Before he could react, he heard a dull thwack and felt light, stabbing pain in his thigh. He looked down to see a dart sticking into his leg, a trickle of blood escaping from the small, plunged wound. He collapsed to the floor.

When he opened his eyes again, a beam of light was shining in his face. He reflexively jerked his arms, trying to bring them up as cover, but couldn't move them. Looking up, he saw his wrists were secured in shackles above his head. He squinted into the light. He could make out he was in the same cell as before, or at least an identical one.

"Well, now that you're awake, why don't we try to talk again?" Khalfani's voice was calm and assured.

Steve didn't answer. He stared directly in front of him. Directly where Khalfani would be standing, even though Steve couldn't see his face. He wanted to make a stand, however futile it might have been.

"Tell me what I want to know and we can part our ways," Khalfani said, his voice still calm.

Steve pursed his lips, breathing through his nose. He wasn't going to tell him anything.

"Two things," Khaalfani continued. "Who knows about what you've seen and where do I find the kids. It's that simple, really."

He remained silent, expecting the punishment for it. He couldn't talk. He couldn't fail, he couldn't let the kids down. He couldn't let Danny and everyone else down either. Put their lives at risk.

"Okay. As you wish," Khalfani said after a moment. "I'll leave you with my men now. If they change your mind, let them know, have them call me and I'll end this."

Of course, Steve knew what that meant. The last beating would just be the start of his ordeal. Things were going to get a lot worse from here.

And he'd been right. As soon as the door closed, one of Khalfani's men pulled a knife out and pressed the blade to Steve's neck. He didn't flinch and stared into the guard's eyes with as much defiance as he could manage. A small streak of warm liquid ran from his neck down to his chest. Steve expected more pain to come, but instead, the guard moved the knife away from his neck and cut through his shirt, then ripped it off and let it slide onto the floor. The guard grinned and nodded to someone behind Steve as he took a step back.

And then a sudden sharp pain spread through his back as a whip broke his skin. And another lash soon followed. Steve gritted his teeth, tried not to think about the pain. He tried to bring his mind into a happy place, but it was an inner fight that didn't take long. It only worked until the next lash came, bringing him back to reality.

Steve squeezed his eyes for a moment, desperately trying not to make a sound as the whip rained on his body. But it didn't take long before his legs gave in, unable to bear the weight of his body, now hanging from the ceiling like a piece of meat, his head hung down.

"Stand up," the voice with a strong accent came from behind him.

Steve didn't move. Perhaps he tried to. He wasn't sure. Even if he did try, it hadn't worked. His legs felt like jelly and refused to cooperate.

"Last chance. Get up, now."

Steve closed his eyes. The world seemed to calm, the voices of the guards fading away from him. The walls around him were changing and he enjoyed the feeling of release washing over his body. Not thinking about the consequences of what he was doing.

The crack from the whip brought him back around, back to his confines. He cried out this time. He imagined he could feel the skin on his back splitting as the leather cut across him.

"I said, get up."

But he couldn't move. Not this time. He let his wrists bear his bodyweight, grimacing in pain. Wanting something to take him away.

Another crack.

Steve shouted again, kept his eyes closed. Squeezed them shut. Willing, hoping, that he could get away.

Crack.

His whole body flinched. He squeezed his eyes shut even harder.

Crack. Crack.

It was working. His mind was taking him away. He wasn't even sure that he could feel the whip anymore.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

He was still aware of the sensation of the whip as it cut into his skin, aware of the pain, but no longer caring. No longer able to care. He could barely hear the sound, even. His world was changing. The sound and pain were fading fast. Before long, they were completely gone.

* * *

One of the guards entered the tent and interrupted their conversation by asking for coffee. Mariam sniffed and replaced the sadness on her face with a smile, but the trembling in her hands gave her away. She was scared, that much was obvious. Paranoid the guards were secretly working for Khalfani Iwu?

"Thanks for the drink," Junior said to her casually.

"Yes, thank you," Danny added, so grateful she'd chosen to trust them.

They walked out of the tent and Junior whispered to Danny, 'I don't think we should talk to the other guards. If we do, it would cast suspicion on Mariam, and they could be involved with Iwu for all we know. She said he had ears and eyes everywhere."

"I agree. But I can't believe this is all about cocoa beans," Danny whispered back, but his tone was fierce, angry at what the local people were going through, what Steve had gone through. At Sabrina and Adama's murder and the journalist who'd disappeared. "People are prepared to kill over cocoa beans."

"It's not about the cocoa. Not really. It's about the end product. Think about how much chocolate is consumed all over the world and how much money is involved. That's what the big boys at the top will be protecting. The farmers and rebels and the locals are just pawns being played in a massive game of profit and corruption."

"Do you think the chocolate companies know that villages are being massacred and children taken as slaves to work the farms?"

"Probably. They'd sure as hell want it covered up if they did, and Khalfani Iwu didn't do all this on his own. He had to have had some powerful help."

Danny stared down at the sun-baked ground. "Steve must've told Sabrina what was going on out here when he spoke to her on the phone a couple of days before he was due to come home."

"So why didn't she do anything about it? Why did she try to hide it from you? If she covered it up, she's as bad as that Iwu arsehole."

"I don't know if it's as simple as that. Maybe she thought that if she talked about what was happening, she'd get her permits revoked and her team would be thrown out. Is it better to help some people fleeing the rebels who desperately need it or get kicked out and help no one?"

The empty Cloudbox account suddenly popped into Danny's head. He'd forgotten all about it until then. He explained it to Junior and said, "I think Steve was intending to upload his footage onto a cloud before he left here so he had backup evidence, but there were no files on it, so for some reason he never did, and the only copy he had was the one Iwu confiscated."

They began to walk toward the car. Siaka watched their approach while talking with one of the guards.

"What now?" Junior asked. "Should we go back home and help the team look for Steve?"

"No!" Danny stopped and looked at him. He had a weird feeling, telling him it wasn't right to pack it up here just yet. "We can't leave. Not yet. It must've been Khalfani's men who took him. Think about it. If they killed Adama and now they have Steve, there is no evidence against them and all their effort was good for nothing. We can go to the plantation, film it again, sent it to Five-0 and find Khalfani to find out where Steve is." Unless it was too late. Danny pushed the thought into the back of his skull.

"Do you think they took Steve there?"

"I… I don't know. I don't really think they did. But I have to do something. I can't go back home with nothing. "

"Why not go straight to Khalfani then? You've been at the police station already, haven't you? I mean after the crash."

Danny shook his head. "No. Khalfani met me in a conference room in the town. I have no idea where their base is. But I guess it's not called the secret police without a reason, right? I think… I think they don't want me to know where that place is. But we'll find out. But let's try the plantation first."

"You don't think they're going to let us just walk into one of the cocoa farms, do you? We have no weapons, either."

Danny didn't know how it would work or what exactly had he hoped to find there. He didn't have a proper plan. But one thing went in their favor. They didn't know he and Junior were there yet. They would have the element of surprise.

Danny grunted with anger as he slid in the back seat of the car next to Junior. Pete's words were bouncing in his skull. It's been almost three days and if Steve wasn't dead before, he could be now. Maybe Pete was right, but Danny couldn't accept that.

"Where to now? Back to the airport?" Siaka asked.

Junior turned his head and looked at Danny. He was silent for a moment, then he said, "We wanted to get a feel for the area while we're here. Can you take us to the Pinta Plantation?"

"You crazy?" Siaka shrieked. "The rebels could be anywhere in the jungle. You will get yourself killed. Why you want to see that?"

Danny attempted to keep his voice as casual as possible. "We don't have anything like that back home. It would be good to see one before we leave."

"They won't just let you in to look around," Siaka said.

"We'll just have a walk around and stretch our legs up there," Junior said, trying to appear casual.

"In the bush?" Siaka's voice pitched high. "You got plenty of wild animals out there too, you know?" He shook his head like they were mad. Maybe they were. Then he lifted his hands in a gesture. "You're the one paying for my time, so if that's what you want… I can take you there but I can't hang around and wait in there. If the rebels come, they shoot me. I'll drop you there and you call me when you're ready to come back." He twisted around in the seat and looked at them. "If you come back."

"That's why we'll need some kind of weapons to protect ourselves, just in case we bump into the rebels," Junior said.

"Or a lion." Siaka shook his head. "I told you. I can't get a gun."

"You have a machete," Danny pointed out.

"For my own protection."

"So take us back to the town. We can get a machete or knives there, right?" Junior said.

Siaka twisted around to face them, raising his eyebrows with disbelief. "You have any idea how to use a machete? You administration people. What would you do with a machete? You probably cut your own hand off."

"Can you help or not?" Danny's voice had a hard edge on it.

Siaka snorted, as if he didn't care one way or the other. "Okay. We go to town and get you a machete. Then I take you to cocoa farm."

They drove silently back to the town. Danny was thinking about everything Pete and Mariam had told them and tried to get his head around it.

Siaka parked outside the shop. "You wait here. I get you tools."

"Do you trust him?" Danny asked Junior when Siaka was out of earshot. He looked around. They were being watched with interest by a group of five men, chatting with the vendor.

"I trust the guy who organized him, but who knows? If we want to go ahead with our plan, then we don't have much of a choice, do we?"

"Junior, I need to do this. It's Steve."

"I understand. And I'm not trying to talk you out of it. But you should understand we could both end up dead and not even find anything up there."

"Maybe I should go alone."

"Not gonna happen."

Danny's head told him to leave. It was usually Steve who would come up with a crazy and risky plan which wasn't even a plan. Doing this could put both of their lives at risk. But his heart told him that his brother's life could depend on it. He had no choice.

Siaka emerged from the shop with two machetes. He slid in behind the wheel and handed them to Junior and Danny. They were rusty but looked sharp enough to do some serious damage. They were ridiculously long and Danny didn't have a clue how to use one.

Siaka swung the car around and headed back where they'd come from. Eventually, they passed the track to the medical centre and drove further along the dusty road until they came upon a sign that read Pinta Plantation, an arrow pointing right up a road through the bush.

"We here." Siaka stopped next to the sign, his head turning left and right as he searched the dense foliage of trees for potential rebels. "You call me when you ready. I pick you up same place."

"Okay." Junior got out of the car, then leaned back in to pick up the machete, holding it down by his thigh and Danny followed him.

They watched Siaka drive off, a terrible sense of foreboding erupting inside Danny.

* * *

The same man who'd taken the call from Adjoua at the airport had been trying to find Detective Williams and his friend. He'd arrived at the airport too late. They'd already disappeared. When his mobile phone rang, he was just approaching the town, driving up the main street, looking for them.

He answered it quickly and recognized the voice straight away.

"McGarrett's friends were here," the voice spoke quietly, telling him what had happened.

"Do you know where they went?" he said.

"I overheard them speak of going to the Pinta Plantation."

"Thank you." He hung up and pressed down on the accelerator.


	10. Chapter 10

Khalfani Iwu wasn't really satisfied with the way things turned out. His people failed to abduct Mcgarrett's sister, two of Dietrich's men were dead and four in the cell in Hawaii after messing up the simple objective to find out how much does McGarrett's friend know. But at least he had McGarrett now. And he'd make sure he'll spill the beans and suffer before he'd kill him. And then he'd come for anyone who might have an idea what this is all about.

He couldn't mess it up now. Not before the merger had been signed, and he could prepare to finally overthrow a president.

He was the one in control. Now and always. He controlled the cocoa plantations, and he would control the distribution centres. He would set the cocoa bean price, and the chocolate companies would have to accept it. The deals they'd been getting for years were what made it possible for them to make their billions in profit off the back of Khalfani and his country. So, his friends in Switzerland needed to be careful, if they knew what was good for them. He didn't play second fiddle to anyone.

He ground out his cigar in the ashtray on his office desk, thought about calling Simon Dietrich for an update, but that would make him look needy and not in control. He couldn't have that. Then his phone rang.

The caller stated Siaka and he started talking as soon as Khalfani answered the call.

"A white man and his friend arrived in town this morning. They say they administrators for Health International, but I get a weird vibe from them. They ask a lot of questions."

"Do you know their names?" Khalfani's body instantly became alert. It had to be Williams, he thought. But why would he come here? It didn't make sense. Unless he was trying to get to him. He almost cackled to himself. Williams was so stupid, he had no idea how it worked in this country.

"No, I don't know."

"Where are they now?"

"That's the strange thing. They want to go to cocoa plantation to see what it's like. I took them to the Pinta Plantation. You find them there."

Khalfani gritted his teeth. So, Williams must have known everything now. And who knows who else did he tell. He probably went there to film more of the footage Khalfani had confiscated. He couldn't let that happen. Or maybe he came here looking for his friend. In that case, Khalfani could as well give him what he was looking for.

"I'll make sure you're suitably rewarded." Khalfani hung up, then scrolled through his phone, looking for the name of the plantation owner. If Williams and his friend were there, Khalfani's rebels guarding the slaves would find them and bring them in. Or kill them. He didn't really care.

Then he'd finish McGarrett and have someone to clean up the mess in Hawaii. And then he'd be the one in control again. The one to tell Dietrich that he'd dealt with the problem once and for all.

* * *

Steve's eyelids felt heavy – it took a real effort to pull them open. His head was a mess. Every time he closed his eyes his mind went into a relentless spin. He felt drunk. But he knew that he hadn't had any alcohol. It was the lack of sleep. The lack of nourishment. The abuse. All of those things. They were making him delirious. Unfortunately, the delirium wasn't doing anything for the pain. That was as intense as ever.

He was still in his cell, suspended from the ceiling, his shoulders and back on fire. His whole body was trembling and a mix of dried and fresh blood covered most of his skin.

Khalfani stood right in front of him, a grin plastered on his face. "I'll make this really simple to you," he said. "I've got some questions for you. And I want you to think really hard about how you respond to them. Now, you know what those are, don't you?"

Steve didn't say a word.

"The clips attached to your chest…" Khalfani continued, his voice calm as always.

Steve bowed his head to look down. He wasn't sure whether his eyes were actually open or closed. He saw himself, his body, but maybe it was just in his mind. Maybe all of this was just in his mind.

But Khalfani was right. Something was different this time. Two crocodile clips, attached to his body, the wires from them trailing off somewhere behind him.

"I think you know for what that's for, right? Perhaps it'll help to change your mind about this silent treatment that you're set on."

Steve closed his eyes, the spinning getting out of control as he did so. But he wanted them closed. He wanted to take himself somewhere else. He knew that was the only way.

"I already know about Williams. Who else knows about what you saw? And where did you hide those kids?" Khalfani said.

No answer.

"Look, I won't lie to you. We both know you're going to follow your friend into the grave. But it doesn't have to be this way. I can make it quick."

Steve tried to block out the sound, tried to ignore Danny's name coming out of Khalfani's lips. It didn't mean anything. Danny wasn't dead, he couldn't be. Khalfani just wanted him to believe it. He kept his bleeding mouth shut.

Khalfani sighed. "As you wish."

He tried to take his mind to a happier place. And it worked. For some reason, a specific memory flashed in his head. The day he and Danny got stuck on a stakeout and he finally opened up to his blonde partner. It felt like it had happened yesterday.

_"I have seen you personally put yourself in every conceivable life-threatening situation without batting an eye. Like it's nothing. But, when it comes to talking about your feelings, forget about it. You'd rather choose cyanide," Danny said. "Huh? Forget it. Wake me up if they stop, or do something interesting... open up that curtain."_

_"You wanna know why I don't play guitar anymore?"_

_"Yes, I would like to know why you don't play guitar anymore."_

_It took a lot of courage to tell Danny the story behind this, but Steve knew he could trust him. "Tenth-grade talent show. I signed up to perform. I practiced this song every day for months and months, and the day finally came around. I was standing in the wings. My guitar was in tune. They called me my name. I walked out on stage... and turned around and looked at all those people... And I couldn't do it... I couldn't do it, so I walked off and I never played the guitar again."_

_"That's it?"_

_"That's it."_

_"Tenth grade. You had stage fright. So, you never played the guitar again?"_

_"I didn't have stage fright. It was bigger than that. I'm telling you, man, it was a, uh... I don't know. I guess it was an existential crisis. I just, at that moment, I couldn't handle... the vulnerability that I was experiencing. I couldn't handle how exposed... I felt. I felt like I couldn't breathe, and I thought it was gonna kill me. Look, man. I was raised differently than you, okay? I wasn't raised in a house with a supportive family, encouraging me to share my feelings. And, in your case, every feeling. The McGarrett men are a different breed. They- To them, showing emotions is showing weakness. You know? I mean, it's stupid, but it's just the way it is."_

_"I understand that. I just figured after everything we've been through... you know... your father, my brother. Everything. I figured maybe I was, you know... somebody that you could open up to, it's all."_

_"I just did."_

Khalfani's voice brought him back to reality. "The last chance to speak before we do this."

He squeezed his eyes even harder. So hard that they began to hurt. But then it came.

Steve's entire body jolted. His eyes sprang open on a wall of white. Pain ripped through him and it seemed to go on for an age. When the electric flow finally stopped, his whole body slumped. If it hadn't been for the chains, he would have collapsed onto the floor.

His entire body throbbed. Twitched. The feeling of the electricity rushing through him was still there, even though the power had been cut. But worse than that, the thing that would haunt him, was the smell of the burning flesh.

With all the will he had left he tried to focus on a happy memory again. Danny's face emerged from the darkness of his thoughts.

_"Look, I got something for you."_

_"You got something for me?"_

_"I do." Danny opened up the Camaro trunk. "There you go."_

_Steve looked inside and pulled out a guitar case. "What is this?"_

_"What is this? Well, it's a tuba, you schmuck. What does it look like?"_

_"You got me a tuba?" Steve laughed._

_"Yeah."_

_Steve opened the guitar case and looked back at his friend with his lips slightly apart. "Danny."_

_"Huh? Huh?"_

_"Danny, that's… uh…"_

_"Nice, right?"_

_"Nice?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"It's beautiful," Steve said in awe. "Are you kidding me?"_

_"Figured you start playing again, maybe play that song you never got to play."_

_"This is really… This is, uh… I don't know what to say. Thank you."_

_"Let's go before the lady has a panic attack," Danny said._

_"Hey man, thank you, all right?"_

_"Uh-huh."_

_"Oh, listen. By the way, why don't you drive." Steve threw the keys to Danny and put the guitar back in the trunk._

_"I drive. Wow. Definitely a breakthrough here, Steve."_

_"Just don't get too excited, all right? I'm still controlling the radio."_

Steve almost smiled at the memory of Danny's way to inspire Steve to face his fears. Almost. But then Khalfani's voice echoed his skull again.

"Who knows and where are the kids?" No emotion in his voice. No threat of what might come.

Steve didn't reply. No matter what they did to him, he wouldn't say a word. He couldn't. For one thing, he knew if he talked, he became expendable. But more than that, he knew if he talked, the kids their little group managed to save and everybody helping them would die. He had to do everything he could to prevent that.

He wasn't sure whether he was really tortured for the information only or as a punishment for causing all the trouble by not being dead for the past ten months. Or both. But it didn't matter. He just hoped his brain would eventually take him somewhere else. Because he didn't want to be here when the next wave came. And he knew it would. Many times. Steve knew what kind of a man Khalfani was. And knew this had only just started.

* * *

"This is just great," Danny whispered as they walked through the bush, avoiding the main road that ran to the plantation. Occasionally, the palm and bamboo were so thick, they sliced at it with the machete to clear the path. "Of course Steve would choose a place like this. Like we didn't have enough jungle back home."

Mosquitoes honed in on them, and they both constantly slapped at any exposed skin.

"We could get bitten by a snake or attacked by a lion or leopard. I bet leopards like this dense area," Danny said. "Not to mention end up with malaria or dengue fever. That's if we don't get spotted and shot. That's Steve's idea of an ideal place to clear his head. Why didn't he just to go Jersey or I don't know… somewhere civilized?"

"Come on, stop complaining. It was your idea to come up here, Danny," Junior whispered. "You do realize that, right?"

"Yeah, but I wouldn't have to push through this jungle if Steve wasn't such a trouble magnet. It's not the first time he made me travel across the world to find him."

Junior sighed. "You can complain to Steve when we get him back. Try to focus now."

They kept pushing through the dense bush, their eyes alert. Danny's body was covered in a sheen of sweat, rivers of it running along his hairline and down the small of his back.

Junior pulled a bottle of water from his backpack and Danny followed suit. He quickly drained half of it , but it did little to quench his parched throat.

"So what do you th-"

"Shh." Junior held a hand up in the air and looked ahead at a high wire fence that had appeared in the distance.

They approached it as quietly as they could, peering through the diamond-shaped gaps. The fence made a buzzing sound.

"It's electric," Junior said.

"To keep animals out or the slaves in?" Danny looked at Junior with a growing sense of dread.

Danny stared through the fence into the dense plantation and saw nothing but trees bursting with cocoa pods.

"Let's go this way," Junior pointed to the left. "The other way will lead to the entrance, and there will probably be guards there."

They set off walking along the perimeter, the machete heavy in Danny's hand. If the time came when he had to use it, he wasn't convinced he could do so effectively. And if anything happened to them, it would be his fault. Maybe they should've formed a proper plan. At least tried to get a hold of a gun. But that required time and he wasn't sure how much time Steve had.

Danny's stomach ached with anxiety as they trudged on, one eye on the bush for the rebels or animals and one eye on the plantation.

They eventually spotted a large clearing through the fence and stopped, hiding behind a banana tree. It was a deserted camp, in the centre of which was a fire pit. Behind the fire, there were racks with cocoa seeds laid out in the sun to dry. Off to the left were stacks of bulging sacks piled high and a big shack with a tin roof and no windows. The doors were wide open but had a padlock hanging on the outside of the handle and a bolt on it.

"This must be their living area," Junior said.

"I wouldn't call this living." A wave of white rage flooded through Danny. "Where are they all?"

"Let's carry on this way."

They walked for further ten minutes before they heard the rhythmic chop of machetes echoing through the air.

Junior froze in front of Danny and turned to the fence. Danny stopped and followed him. Junior pointed into the plantation. And there, between some cocoa trees, sat a group of eight children, cross-legged on the ground around a huge pile of cocoa pods. Holding the pods in one hand, they swung their machetes in an arc through the air to crack into them. Once split open, they scooped out the gooey white seeds inside with their fingers before throwing them into a plastic basket. In the distance, Danny spotted some other boys amongst the trees, cutting down more pods.

Junior made a flapping hand gesture, indicating at Danny to crouch down so they were obscured by foliage. Danny forced the thoughts of snakes and spiders out of his head and stared at the boys. They were dressed in dirty, ragged clothes and barefoot. Their ages ranged somewhere between five and fifteen. A sudden image of Charlie appeared in front of Danny's eyes and sent a chilly feeling down his spine. This wasn't right.

Danny pulled a phone from his pocket and started recording them, watching their desolate faces through the screen. They had no water with them, and they looked very thin and weak with deadness in their eyes. A few of the boys had fresh bruises or bloody swellings on their faces. Some had nasty cuts or scars on their arms and legs.

Now it all made sense. This is what Steve tried to stop and this is why they wanted him dead. They couldn't risk this getting out into the public.

One of the younger boys' arms was shaking with the effort of constantly swinging the heavy machete down to split the pods, his eyes closing with exhaustion. His tiny body made him clumsy, and his eyes closed for a split second, the machete missing the cocoa pod and slicing into his forearm. The boy's pitiful scream filled the air. The other boys stood still, looking around as if terrified. One of the older boys ran to the younger one and lifted his injured arm in the air, presumably to stench the blood flow.

Danny gasped. His skin prickled with fear. He wanted to climb over the fence and help the boy, get him to the hospital. He started to rise from his crouched position, but Junior grabbed his arm. Danny looked over at him.

Junior shook his head, his eyes fiery. "If we get killed, we won't be able to help those kids nor Steve," he whispered.

A guard dressed in a camouflage uniform and black boots ran out from between the trees behind the boys. He had some kind of assault rifle in his hands and shouted at them in a foreign language. He pointed the gun at the injured boy and his helper.

Danny could feel Junior's hand pressing him down to make him stay. The blood boiled in his veins. He couldn't just stay hidden and watch that man aiming the gun at innocent children. "We need to do something," he whispered.

"Not yet," Junior said, his eyes still on the boys and the guard while holding Danny's arm firmly.

The guard shouted some more. The helper rushed back to the outer circle of boys and picked up his machete again, swinging at the cocoa pods. The younger boy had stopped screaming when the guard appeared, his face full of fear and shock and pain, but his mouth was wide open in a silent cry as tears streamed down his dirty face. His lips trembled, and he cowered on the ground.

The guard pulled up the injured boy by his good arm, blood dripped down the wound and onto the fallen leaves on the ground. He shouted some more, getting in the boy's face. The boy said something back as he clutched his arm, doubling over with pain. The guard yelled in his face and waved his gun at him, motioning for him to get back to work.

Danny hesitated for a moment, feeling as powerless as he'd ever felt in his life, his mind quickly turning over. If he revealed they were here and intervened, what would happen? Junior was probably right, but he couldn't idly stand by anymore.

He sprang up and ran out of the foliage hiding him, looking for something to help him get inside. But there wasn't anything at all.

"Danny!" he heard Junior's angry voice but ignored him. "Danny, wait!"

He looked around frantically. Nothing. Then he glanced over in the boy's direction, the gun of the guard still pointed at the crying figure. He had to do something.

"Hey!" he yelled in the guard's direction. "You over there. Why don't you pick on someone your size, huh?"

"Danny! What are you d-"

He didn't hear the rest of the sentence as the sound of bullets rang in the air. He ducked and threw a look at Junior, who was about to run his way.

"No." Danny shot his hand in the air to stop him. "I'll get their attention. You find a way to help the kids. Get that boy out of here before he bleeds out."

"But…"

"Go!" Danny yelled and ducked again as another round of bullets was fired his direction. He turned around and ran back into the jungle, the machete still in his hand. He heard shouts of the guard behind him, probably calling some reinforcements.

Danny's heart clanged beneath his ribs as if it was to climb out of his chest. His legs shook as he jogged down the incline of the jungle that would eventually take him to the main road. He was drenched in sweat, still unable to process what he'd just witnessed.

The shouts from behind him didn't stop, which meant it worked. He got the attention of the guards, who were now following him instead of aiming their guns at the injured child. But he had no idea what to do next. He picked up the pace, trying to figure out his next move, hoping Junior had found a way to get the boy out of here.

Suddenly, the ground covered by palm fronds dipped, and Danny missed his footing, twisting over on his ankle. A cry involuntarily escaped his lips and he toppled over, clutching his leg as he sprawled on the ground, releasing his grip on the machete that slid further down the slope.

The pain blossomed in his ankle, but he moved it tentatively, gritting his teeth to block it out. He had to move - the voices of the guards were now much louder than before. He was about to haul himself up when a loud crashing sound erupted in the dense jungle somewhere to his left. The noise of the foliage being disrupted by something big and heavy.

His head turned in that direction. His first thought was it could be a lion or a leopard. But then the reason for the noise became apparent.

It wasn't a leopard. It was much, much worse.

* * *

Steve was almost numb to the pain now, his mind and his body both spent after another ordeal. There was the unmistakable metallic taste of blood on his tongue. It coated his mouth, filled his throat. He swallowed, no longer able to muster the strength to spit the thick liquid out. Seconds later more blood was already pooling.

The skin on his face was stiff from the dried blood caked on his cheeks, but more blood was still fresh, coming from his nose, which must be broken he thought, and from the gash above his eye. His head throbbed and with each pulse a new wave of liquid oozed down his face. The skin on his back felt like there was not a single place where it remained in one piece.

He remained upright, but only because of the chains holding him in position, his wrists still in shackles above his head, bearing his bodyweight. Without the chains, he surely wouldn't be able to stand.

Three men in front of him were moving in a blur, laughing, speaking to him, but he couldn't recognize the words. After Khalfani had left again and Steve had hoped for a break, another beating had come instead. He desperately wanted to fight back, wanted to hurt them. Yet his body wouldn't allow it even if he wasn't chained up. His head and mind felt disconnected from the rest of him.

His thoughts wandered. He tried to remember when did it all go so wrong. And what his complete failure meant for him, for Danny, for Adama, for the kids.

The pain in his body was nothing compared to that in his mind. His decision to involve Danny was the reason Khalfani's men attacked his partner. Not knowing what they've done to his best friend, not knowing whether Danny was still alive, or whether he was going through the same ordeal as Steve, was much more painful than whatever ordeal Khalfani had put him through.

And the worst thing was, he'd failed the kids who so desperately needed his help, who needed him to succeed, to get them out of those hell holes and reveal everything to the world.

He already accepted what will happen to him. Khalfani will kill him in the end, make his body disappear, he was sure of that. But there was one more thing Steve was certain of. No matter the amount of pain Khalfani would cause him before he'd kill him, Steve wasn't going to tell him anything.


	11. Chapter 11

It took Junior a few seconds to decide what to do next. Danny's action could get them both killed easily, but on the other hand, he understood. He watched Danny disappear in the dense bush and then turned his gaze back to the wounded boy, who sat on the ground, clutching his bloody arm.

One of the guards showed up from behind the trees and grabbed the boy's arm, hauling him to his feet, and then escorted him into the shack in the camp. The guard shoved him in and slammed the door closed, then locked the padlock on it and ran off in a different direction.

Rising from the crouching position, Junior had a quick look around again. There were no more guards in sight. He jogged around the fence. One of the palm trees a couple of meters from his position was close enough so he could climb it and jump over the fence inside of the farm. He didn't lose any more time.

In a few seconds, he was on the other side, staying low just in case, and headed right to the camp. He glanced around. No one in sight. They must've gone after Danny and Junior had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't sure Danny would stand a chance against who knows how many armed African rebels.

He leaned against the shack and took the bobby pin out of his backpack. He knew these would come in handy. Working on the padlock didn't take long, it was like a piece of cake for a trained SEAL.

As the door opened, a musty smell hit him into the nose. His heart clenched with the view of the crying boy who couldn't have been more than seven years old. The boy's big, glassy eyes turned at him. Junior could say he was terrified.

"Hey." He smiled at the boy, trying not to scare him even more. "I'm Junior." He pointed his index finger at his chest, assuming the boy couldn't speak English. Then he pointed at the boy as he crouched down to lower himself to the boy's eye level. "What's your name?"

The boy hesitated, his eyes not leaving Junior's smiling face. "M… Modou," he said eventually, his voice shaking in between the sobs.

Junior moved closer a few inches, approaching carefully, a smile plastered on his face like nothing was going on. He pointed at Modou's bleeding arm. "Okay, Modou. I'll help you, all right?" He took a clean t-shirt out of his backpack and showed it to Modou, pointing at his wound again.

Modou nodded and wiped the tears off his dirty face.

Junior tore off a piece of shirt and quickly wrapped it around the wound, his heart filled with sadness for Modou and all those kids. This just wasn't right. They had to find a way to get all these children out of here and stop this madness. But first, he had to get Modou out of here safely.

He'd offered him his hand and after a few seconds of hesitation, Modou took it. "I'll take you away from here," Junior said. He knew Modou couldn't understand what he was saying, but he hoped his calm and friendly voice would at least reassure him.

Junior peeked out of the shack, ensuring there are no guards nearby and evaluating the situation. He could see the main entrance with two guards standing by. Taking them down and smuggle Modou out of here was his new plan. And he hoped it'd work.

* * *

Six guards dressed in the same army uniform emerged through the thick bush, pointing their rifles at Danny. One of them shouted something in a foreign language, indicating with the muzzle of his gun that he should put his arms up.

Danny sucked in a breath, his eyes searching for the machete that had fallen out of his hand, but he couldn't see it. The men surrounded him quickly. He could still hear the shouts of the guards coming from the farm, getting closer every second. But these guys came from a different direction. Did they know about them before he'd alerted the guard?

Still on his knees, Danny raised his hands, looking up at them. "No need to shoot," he said. "I was just out for the walk and got lost. If you can tell me where the main road is, I'll just go." The chances of succeeding were extremely slim, but he had to try. His pulse roared in his ears, his breath hissed in and out.

"You come with us," the guard on Danny's right shouted.

"Look, I'll just go," Danny said, his voice cracking, trying to control the tremor inside. "Sorry, I didn't know this was private land."

"You no speak." the guard on his side snapped.

Two of the guards gripped Danny's arms, painfully twisting them behind his back. He pulled his weight down and fought them, but to no avail. Even if he managed to break free from their grip, there would still be four guards aiming their guns right at his face.

Just a few seconds later, Danny was in cuffs, two pairs of hands gripping his arms behind his back, his heart beating frantically against his ribs. He couldn't help anyone, neither Steve or the kids if he was captured or dead.

Sounds of the boots and shouts coming from somewhere behind him got his attention. He turned his head to see six more guards coming from the plantation, panting from racing through the jungle to get Danny. They began to talk to the other group of guards. Danny didn't understand, but from their looks, he could guess they were explaining what had happened to each other.

The guy leading the newcomers' group caught Danny's gaze and snarled. It was the one who bullied the little boy back at the farm, Danny was certain of that. And by the look in his face had told him he wasn't very happy to be interrupted by an unexpected guest.

The man strolled toward Danny and stopped right in front of him, his face just inches from Danny's. "Where is the other man?" he snarled.

"It's just me," Danny lied.

"We know there are two of you. Where is he?"

Danny looked up at him, but remained silent, his lips pressed together.

The man's fist landed in his stomach. A sudden blow into made him nauseous. He hunched over in pain, but immediately he'd been pulled at and straightened up back to his knees.

He looked behind the guard into the bush and caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the distance before it disappeared behind the dense foliage again. It was Junior and he had the boy with him. Danny quickly turned his head to the other side, not wanting to attract attention to them. When he looked there again after a few moments, their eyes met. A whole silent conversation between them had happened in a bat of an eye. Danny saw Junior rising from his position and he shook his head slightly, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

There were dozen of armed men, and the only weapon Junior had was a machete, which Danny wasn't sure the young SEAL could use effectively. And then there was a little boy who needed to get out of here and get medical attention. If Junior intervened, he'd probably end up captured or dead. Neither would help save the boy, the other slaves, Steve, or himself anyway. Their best chance was Junior coming back with a proper plan and ideally some sort of gun. The young man seemed to evaluate the situation the same way as Danny and remained hidden.

Danny sucked in a deep breath as he felt a muzzle dug into his back. There was no way out of this. Not this time. He was probably going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. He pictured his dead body splayed out on the dusty earth, riddled with bullets, never to be found. But if his actions saved that little boy's life, it was worth it.

He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the gun to fire, but instead, something hard was smashed against his skull and a second later his world went dark.

* * *

Getting past the guards at the gate of the plantation was a pretty risky move but Junior had no choice. He was ready to sneak in and fight them if necessary, get a hold of a gun. But some shouting from the camp area attracted the guards' attention.

Junior didn't have to understand to know what that'd meant. They found out Modou had disappeared. And they better keep moving before it was too late to get out. Luckily for them, the guards walked closer toward the camp, cradling the rifles in their hands. They didn't leave the gate completely, but the chaos in the camp had distracted them for long enough for Junior and Modou to sneak past their backs.

They rushed through the jungle, making their way to the main road. Soon, the voices of guards echoed through the dense bush behind their backs. Junior picked up the pace and Modou followed, the pure dread shining in his eyes.

The voices soon got louder, but Junior realized those hadn't come from the same direction. He could hear someone speaking, yet he didn't see anyone. Holding tight onto his machete, he pulled Modou down, crouching behind the dense foliage and stared into the direction of the voices.

His heart skipped a beat when he finally got a good view of the group of twelve guards, standing around Danny, who was on his knees, his hands bound behind his back and held by two of the guards. Several men aimed their guns at his friend.

Junior readied himself to rise from the crouching position and help him when their eyes met. He would swear he'd seen Danny shaking his head slightly before he'd turned his gaze away. And he knew Danny was right. It would be suicide to go against all those men. He turned his head to Modou. The boy sat on the ground, his face grimaced in pain as he cradled the hurt arm. Junior's gaze returned to Danny.

One of the guards smashed the back of his rifle in the back of Danny's head and he watched as his friend had fallen face down and remained still. His heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest and it was one of the hardest decisions he'd ever made, but he had to get Modou away. If he let themselves get caught, they'd all die for nothing. He had to find a place to hide Modou safely and come back for Danny.

"Come," Junior said, looking at Modou.

They made their way through the bush, exertion and heat taking its toll. Soon, Modou slowed down and stopped completely, shaking his head as he tried to catch the breath.

A crackling noise sounded somewhere close. As Junior turned his head to check it out, he found himself staring at two guards, their guns aimed at him.

Modou took a step back and hid behind Junior's back, holding onto his waist. Junior reached for Modou's hand and held it tight. His eyes darted from side to side, looking for the best option to keep the boy safe while getting rid of the guards at the same time.

The guard on their left moved forward, his gun high in the air. He shouted something, indicating with the muzzle to throw the machete away.

But Junior didn't move, his brain whirring. If he sent Modou to run away, he'd risk the kid being shot, he couldn't do that. The two guards stood far enough from each other to tackle both of them at the same time, which meant while fighting one, the other one could get the boy.

The guard shouted again, waving his gun angrily in the air. Junior heard Modou's whimper. He squeezed on the machete harder, readying himself to fight when the guard's head exploded.

Junior couldn't tell where the shot came from. He just watched as the guard hovered before slouching to the ground.

He pulled Modou down while the other guard crouched, his gaze and gun moving in a circle, trying to pinpoint the shooter.

As Junior and Modou lay flat, he heard the sound of a second shot. The other guard was hit in the head. He toppled over from his crouched position and fell on his face.

Footsteps crunched through the bush, and a man appeared with the same make of gun the guards used.

"Come on. We must go now," he ordered.

"Who are you?" Junior asked the man as he picked himself and the boy up.

"Adama sent me," he said over his shoulder.

Worried he was walking into a trap, Junior said, "Adama is dead."

"He's still working from beyond the grave. Come on. No time for talking now. Keep moving. Others come."

"I can't go," Junior protested. "My friend… They got him. I need to help him."

The man shook his head. "You can't help him if you are dead. Come now. We help him later."

Junior hesitated. He couldn't leave Danny in the hands of the rebels. But this man was right. He didn't know if he could trust this man, but he'd just saved their lives. He had a gun and right now, he was their only hope.

He glanced down, still holding the boy's hand. He knew Modou couldn't keep up the pace. He looked back at the man. "Can you please tell him I'm gonna carry him? " He indicated his head to Modou.

The man said something in a foreign language, addressing his words to Modou. Modou looked at Junior and nodded hesitantly.

Junior picked him up, letting the fragile arms wrap around his neck and followed the man who'd saved them, rushing through the bush. The heat and humidity sapped his energy quickly.

Muffled shouting sounded in the distance as they pushed themselves forward as quietly and quickly as possible. Eventually, they came to the road.

"My vehicle is up there." The man pointed further along.

"I can't see it."

"It's hidden."

They moved parallel to the road, and eventually, the man stopped next to a copse of low trees. He tore off palm leaves and bamboo stacked over and against a green Land Rover that had been arranged to look like foliage and blend it with the background. Junior lowered Modou down on his feet and helped until the car was completely uncovered.

The man opened the driver's door and jumped in, putting his rifle in the footwell of the seat. "Let's go."

Junior and Modou got in the back, and he bounced over a rut at the side of the road and onto the track in the opposite direction of the town, his tires spraying mud in the air.

"Where are we going?" Junior asked, twisting in his seat to look behind him out of the windscreen, checking if anyone was following, but the road was empty.

"They know you are here. They have eyes and ears everywhere."

Junior growled. Siaka must've told them. So they'd find them even without Danny running off. "Wait," he said. "I can't leave my friend here. I need to find out where they are taking him. They'll kill him."

"If they wanted to kill him, he'd be already dead. We need to get out of here first, then we can help them."

Junior drew his brows in confusion. "Them?"

The man's eyes met his gaze in the mirror. "Yes. That's why you are here, aren't you? They have your other friend."

"Wait a second. Steve is here?" Junior's jaw dropped in a surprise. They came here for the answers but didn't even hope to find their ex-boss in here.

"We have a person inside. He said they brought him here. But I don't know if he's still alive."

Junior's heart began to thud faster. "Do you know where do they keep him?"

"Yes. I think they'll take your blonde friend to the same place."

"Where? Can you take me there? Or just tell me. Please. I'll pay you."

The man shook his head. "We need to get out of here first," he repeated. "We can't walk in there with empty hands. We need more people and some guns."

Junior stared at the driver, still unable to understand why would he risk to save the lives of strangers. "Why would you help us?" he asked.

"Steve is a good man. Helping the kids, he is one of us. He is my friend too. We thought he was dead but now we know he isn't and we want to help him just like you do. But you need to be patient."

It made sense. Somehow Steve's and Adama's friends must've figured out they were coming to the country and wanted to help them as well as the kids. Maybe someone had told them they were coming. Junior glanced over Modou. The fear in the boy's eyes was obvious and he was breathing fast. "Hey. It's going to be okay, you're safe now," Junior said.

The man in the driver's seat said something to the boy in another language. Junior didn't know what that was, but it worked and Modou seemed to calm down a little.

"We take him across the border to Mali."

Junior turned back around and met the driver's gaze in the rear-mirror. He was young, probably only early twenties, with a haunted look in his eyes.

"Same way Steve got out last time," he said.

"Adama got him out of the country, didn't he?" Junior asked.

"Yeah. This is what we do. We have a network. We try to smuggle the slave boys out of the plantation. We take them to the orphanage in Mali."

"And then what happens to them?"

"We hope they find a new life in the end. At least they are free and safe there. And maybe when the war is over, they can find their families again."

"How far is it to the border?" Junior asked.

"Twenty miles. But we go through the back road and avoid the guards who work for Khalfani Iwu."

Junior looked to his left, checking Modou again. The boy had trouble keeping his eyes open, his eyelids heavy. He turned back to the driver. "I don't know how to thank you for helping us," Junior said.

"You saved that kid, didn't you?" the man said.

"I guess."

"Then I should be the one thanking you."

* * *

"What do you mean he escaped?" Khalfani's anger exploded as he stood at the guarded entry gate to the Pinta Plantation and stared at the owner.

The owner looked down at the ground, trying to avoid Khalfani's wrath. "I'm sorry. I don't know how he got away, but two of your men are dead," the owner said, still afraid to look up.

Two of the rebels guarding the gate shifted from foot to foot, their AK-47s hanging from straps on their shoulders.

"But we got the other one." The owner looked up hesitantly. "White man, short, blonde."

Khalfani paced the dusty ground with a snarl. It didn't matter if he got McGarrett and Williams if he had someone else still running free, taking his slaves from the farms and spreading the word about what's happening in there. He turned to Inspector Sumano, who stood behind him. "He must've had help. When I find out who, they'll die a painful death." He paced some more, thinking. Then he took a phone out of his pocket and called Siaka, who answered almost immediately. "Are they with you?" he shouted.

"No, sir. I thought you had them by now. They were supposed to ring me to pick them up, so when they didn't call, I thought you got them."

Khalfani growled and hung up. He paced some more, hands clasped behind his back. He looked at Sumano again. "Find him!" he ordered. "I'll have my hands full with McGarrett and his friend."

"Yes, sir." Sumano nodded and walked away.

Khalfani turned to the plantation owner and slapped him hard across the face. "If my men won't find that American, I'll deal with you later. You understand?"

The owner looked to the ground, holding his hand on his cheek. "Yes, sir. I… I understand."

"Now, show me where you keep the other guy. I'm taking him for a ride. I think he'd like to meet his friend again."

* * *

The Land Rover made slow progress down the roads, but eventually, they approached the outskirts of a town mostly filled with houses made of mud with iron roofs. "We're almost at the border," the driver, who'd told Junior his name was Issa, said. "The guards are too lazy to patrol in this heat. They sit in the office, drinking coffee all day. We go off-road now." Issa swerved away from the main road, and they drove along what seemed like a well-used path cut out through high vegetation that appeared endless.

It felt like Junior was on a roller coaster ride as the vehicle bounced up and down. They drove in brooding silence, Junior lost in his thoughts, until Issa said, "We're in Mali now."

Junior had no idea how he could tell. The area was just vegetation and soil with nothing else around. They rounded a corner of tall grass and spotted two guards standing in the road with rifles slung over their shoulders, smoking as they watched their approach.

"Great," Juniors said as the guards threw their cigarettes on the ground and stood shoulder to shoulder, pointing their weapons at them.

* * *

Danny's eyes sprang open and his body jerked in shock. It took him a few seconds to recalibrate and realize both where he was - some dark, stinky cell - and what had so vigorously roused him from unconsciousness - cold water. The icy liquid covered his head and was dripping down his brow, down his cheeks, onto his torso. He could hear droplets pattering off him onto the concrete floor. In front of him, the head of the secret police was standing, impassive expression still intact, an empty plastic bowl in his hand.

Danny tried to move but couldn't. He was on a metal chair, his hands secured behind the back, each ankle fixed against a chair leg.

"Nice to see you again, Detective," Khalfani said. He spoke calmly. No aggression or anger there. Yet Danny sensed the danger in Khalfani's voice.

"Can't say the same," Danny said with fire in his eyes. His brain whirred as he thought about a way out of this situation.

"I'm going to make this really simple for you," Khalfani said. "I give you what you want and you tell me what I want to know. A good exchange. Does that sound fair to you?"

Danny said nothing, tried not to show a reaction, as he scoped out what he could do to escape. He could see neither his hands nor ankles, but when he wriggled his joints, it felt as though the restraints were thick, probably ropes.

"You shouldn't have come here, it was a really stupid move. You should've just accepted what I've told you about your friend and let go."

Danny scoffed and met Khalfani's eyes. "Let go? You tried to kill him and cover it up. Innocent people were killed."

"Collateral damage," Khalfani said with no regret in his voice.

Blood boiled inside Danny's veins with the thought of the young siblings killed by this son of a bitch, the pilot of the plane, the journalist who had enough courage to come here and ask questions, then Adama and Sabrina Lawson. Like it was completely normal to get rid of everyone standing in his way.

"Now, you'll tell me who is the man who came here with you and where did he take that boy." Khalfani's voice didn't change and there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Danny didn't respond. He wouldn't tell him even if he knew the answer. Junior and that kid could be anywhere by now and Danny just hoped it was far from here. He pursed his lips and Khalfani let out a long, almost mocking sigh.

"No? Okay then, how about we start all over again," Khalfani said.

Danny held his gaze, determined not to look away, trying to stay strong, to not to think about how hard Khalfani could make this situation if he wanted to.

"I think McGarrett must be really important to you if you went through all the trouble to find him."

Danny tried his best not to react but Khalfani smirked as though he'd seen a tell, looking pleased with himself for his correct deduction.

"That's why you're here, aren't you?" Khalfani said.

When he got no answer, Khalfani turned his back to Danny and paced the room, looking at the two guards. Danny squirmed and tried working on the restraints. There had to be a way to break through these things. Then Khalfani turned back around, staring into Danny's eyes. "Let's find out if he feels the same way about you, shall we?"


	12. Chapter 12

Issa slammed on the brakes, and the car skidded to a stop. He shoved the rifle underneath the passenger seat. "There aren't official guards. This is an illegal checkpoint. But I don't want to antagonize them with a gun. They are unpredictable and will have other men hidden nearby. Do not move. Do not go for a gun. Do not speak unless they ask you a question." His voice was strained with concern.

Junior clutched his sweaty palms and glanced around the bush, wondering if there were other men watching them with weapons trained on them. He looked at Modou, who was staring ahead at the guards dressed in camouflage uniform, his jaw clenched tight. He held the boy's hand and gave it a light squeeze. "It'll be okay," he assured the scared child, flashing him a smile.

Issa wound his window down as one of the guards approached him, speaking rapidly in a language Junior didn't know. Issa replied in a placatory tone, shrugging his shoulders.

The second guard walked towards the passenger side, his gun trained on Junior.

Time seemed to stand still as the second guard walked around the back of the vehicle. Junior turned his head and saw him peer inside the rear screen before coming around to open the window. He stared at Junior and shouted something.

Issa turned around and spoke to him in their language. The second guard shouted something back, gesturing with the gun for them to get out of the vehicle.

"He wants you both to get out," Issa said, the tremble in his voice obvious now.

Junior's chest tightened. He was torn between following Issa's instructions and going for the gun under the seat.

Both guards stepped back to let them out.

Issa slid off his seat and stepped out onto the track. Junior and Modou followed suit.

One guard spoke again to Issa while the second one stepped closer to Junior so they were barely inches apart. He pressed the barrel of his rifle against Junior's forehead and looked him up and down slowly.

Issa's forehead pinched with worry. He spoke again to the guards, a long stream of words, rapidly getting higher in pitch. There was an exchange of words between the guards and Issa, and Junior watched Issa's shoulders to slump, but he couldn't tell if that was good or bad.

"They want a bribe," Issa said, turning to Junior.

Junior pointed inside the car but didn't dare to move. "In my backpack. There is a wallet inside."

Issa said something to the guards.

One of the guards walked to the vehicle and searched the backpack for the wallet. He took out all the cash and then threw the empty wallet back into the passenger seat. Then he said something to the other one, who lowered his gun, nodded, and spoke one word to Issa in a harsh tone.

"Come on," Issa said to Junior. "We can go."

They clambered back in the vehicle quickly before the guards could change their minds.

* * *

Steve was beginning to lose his mind. He could no longer tell what was real and what was a dream. If he'd been further down the line, at least he'd have been so damaged as to no longer realize there was a reality and a non-reality. Unfortunately, he still knew there was a difference - he could just no longer tell them apart.

He thought he was still in his cell, still chained up in the same position that was now excruciating. His eyes were shut, but he didn't think he was sleeping.

He heard the key turn in the lock of his cell door. Two men walked into the cell. Steve saw their feet moving toward him, those same leather boots as always. He didn't look up at their faces. He didn't have the strength.

One of them reached toward him and he expected the pain to come, but he felt the shackle on his left wrist open instead and let his arm fall down beside his body. There was no feeling in it and despite trying to move it, he couldn't. Then the guard uncuffed his other hand and Steve's body slumped to the floor in a heap. His head hit the hard floor and sent a spike of pain ringing through his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it might channel the pain away. It didn't.

The men pulled him up to his feet, dragged him out of the cell. His legs were too weak to walk. Instead, he let the men pull him along, his feet and ankles scraping across the cold, hard stone floor. They took him down corridors, a left turn, then a right, then two more lefts.

The door opened and he was dragged inside and pushed down onto something that felt like a chair. Almost immediately his numb arms were pulled behind his back and secured there. Once done, one of the guards tied his legs to the legs of the chair. He wanted to fight, to try and break free while he had a chance, but he couldn't make his body work anymore. He let his heavy eyelids fall again and his head slumped forward onto his chest in defeat.

His head came out of the darkness when he heard the voice. It was like a mist clearing in front of him. He was being spoken to. He thought he recognized the voice. But he wasn't sure whether the voice was real or not. It kept repeating his name.

"Steve?" the voice said again, louder. It was warm and comforting but terrified at the same time.

Steve tried his best to open his eyes at least a little bit and lift his head just enough to check whether this was reality or a dream.

After a few moments, Steve managed to hold his head up, and he slowly opened his flickering eyelids. It wasn't the first time he'd found himself tied up in the damp cell with Khalfani and his men.

This time was noticeably different, though, Steve quickly realized. There was now another man in the room. Danny. His best friend, his terrified gaze locked on Steve, was a few feet in front of him, in the exact same position as himself, his wrists tied together behind a sturdy chair and each ankle tied to a leg of the chair with a thick rope.

Steve's heart skipped a beat. So he wasn't responsible for Danny's death. Not yet, anyway. He struggled against the restraints. Weak, pathetic attempts. He didn't know why he bothered, simply an instinctive reaction to what he knew lay ahead.

"Steve." Danny's voice was a pleading whisper, his gaze not leaving Steve's. The reflection in Danny's eyes showed both - relief and pure dread at the same time.

"Quite a party now," Khalfani said to Steve.

Steve's jaw dropped when his brain had finally processed what was happening and he shot his captor an angry look.

"This was your choice, remember? I only wanted to talk to you. You were the one who decided to bring your friend into this."

Steve's gaze shifted back to Danny, the fear of what might happen next tightening his chest. "Danny. You okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse and weak, the words getting stuck in his parched throat. He felt lame that those were the best words he could come up with. Of course, his blonde partner wasn't okay. He scanned his friend for the injuries, but despite a small streak of blood running down his neck and a couple of bruises he seemed to be all right. For now.

Danny nodded, his eyes scanning through Steve as though that was the stupidest question ever. Steve was aware of how bad he must've looked like after the ordeal he'd been through and that it might've scared his partner who'd seen him for the first time after believing Steve'd been dead for ten long months.

"Now, when we have this little reunion sorted, which one of you would like to start?" Khalfani brought Steve's focus back on him. "One of you will speak sooner or later. So please, don't waste my time and tell me what I want to know while I ask nicely."

Steve swallowed hard. He knew what was going to come next and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't speak, no matter what. If he did, Khalfani would kill those boys and everybody who was helping them. Being tortured for the information would never make him speak, but what if Khalfani'd just discovered his weak spot? Hopefully, he'd keep torturing him instead of Danny. Because if there was one thing in the world that might break him, it was his brother being hurt.

"No one? All right. We can just as well continue where we'd finished." Khalfani nodded to someone behind Steve.

Before he had a chance to react, there was a thudding sound as something hard hit him in the back of his already concussed head, which sprang forward and recoiled violently. His vision blurred from the force of the blow.

Khalfani's voice echoed in his brain. He saw Khalfani's blurry silhouette turning to Danny. "You seem to be a wise man, Detective. Unlike your friend. So would you like to speak first?"

"This is pointless. I don't know where they are." Danny's answer was prompt, but calm, at least on the outside.

After a few moments, as Steve's vision was coming back into focus, he was hit again on the back of his head and sent his brain into a relentless spin.

"Are you sure?" Khalfani addressed his question to Danny. "We don't have to go down this road. Tell me the name of your friend, or don't. I don't really care. I have people working on it now and once I find him, he's a dead man anyway. But I'd really like to know where those kids are. Can't have them running around just like that."

Danny didn't say a word.

An arm was thrust around Steve's neck and squeezed hard. Steve gargled and gasped, trying to breathe, but nothing was coming in or out.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Danny struggling against his ties, but he could barely move. The look on his face was full of concern, his scared gaze fixed on Steve, but he didn't say anything.

With no way of escape, and with the life being choked out of him, Steve's eyes drooped, and the world began to fade. Then, suddenly, the arm was released. Steve inhaled so deeply that he thought his lungs were going to explode, and he continued to wheeze and pant as his body recovered.

"Tell me where did your friend take that boy," Khalfani said to Danny.

A thought tugged at Steve's mind. A friend? A boy? He wasn't sure what Khalfani was talking about. Danny didn't know anything about it. He didn't have a chance to tell him before he'd been attacked in that park.

Danny kept his mouth shut and his eyes locked on Steve.

"Let me make this really clear for both of you," Khalfani said, his eyes darting between both of them. "I will get the information I need, and I will do anything necessary. Do you understand?"

"Go to hell," Steve managed to choke out.

"Great. You got your voice back." Khalfani turned his attention to Steve. "You must be tired already. Injured, hungry, thirsty. How long do you think you can keep going like this?"

Steve didn't say anything, just stared at him with defiance in his eyes, as much as he could manage.

"You know, your friend came all this way to find you, so I really hope he's concerned about your well-being more than you are and that he'll speak up." Khalfani turned his head to the left, flashing a smirk in Danny's direction before turning back to Steve. "Because honestly, I don't think you'll last much longer."

Steve drew his brows in confusion. Did that mean Danny had managed to escape back in Hawaii? Did he come to Africa to look for him and got captured here? Did he find out about the kids? Did he bring the team into this? Steve hoped Danny hadn't done that. He didn't want to be responsible for their deaths. His brain was whirring with a thousand thoughts.

When no response came from either of them, the arm came forward again and Danny, sensing what was coming, shouted out before the grip became too tight. "No!"

It worked. The arm on Steve's neck was still there, but it wasn't choking him yet.

"Tell me what you know," Khalfani said, staring at Danny.

The grip became tighter again, and Steve gasped and struggled uselessly.

"Tell me what you know," Khalfani repeated, calm and assured. "Where are they?"

"I don't… I don't know!"

The grip around Steve's neck tightened further. Steve's feeble protests went unheeded, and he could do nothing as the guard slowly squeezed the life out of him. Everything had begun to turn black when Khalfani's man once again took his arm away. It was like a shot of adrenaline delivered right to Steve's heart, the panicked organ thudding ferociously in his chest.

"Tell me now," Khalfani said to Danny, as Steve panted and wheezed. "And I'll stop this."

Danny shook his head wildly. "I'm telling the truth, I have no idea."

Khalfani stepped forward and stopped right in front of Steve, their faces just inches apart. "I can keep doing this all day. It hurts like hell, doesn't it? Feels like your lungs are being burned from the inside out? It'll only get worse each time we do it." He looked back at Danny, a wide grin stretched over his face as he noticed Danny's terrified eyes. "Sooner or later, my friend might not stop in time. Might even break McGarrett's neck by mistake. Nobody's perfect you know."

"Don't… I don't know, all right? It's the truth."

Steve's head was in such a mess that he wasn't even sure what Khalfani's question had been. Was he waiting for an answer still?

"Where did you hide those children?" Khalfani asked again, breaking the uneasy silence.

After a few seconds without an answer, something dug into the back of Steve's neck - a small blunt object, knuckleduster maybe. Not a terrible pain, not at first at least, but as it was pushed deeper and deeper into the tissue in his neck, grinding against the vast bundle of nerves there, the pain grew by the second, shooting down his back and into his arms and legs, making Steve grimace in pain.

He glanced over Danny and shook his head slightly. He had no idea how much did Danny know or didn't know, but he couldn't let him speak. This would all be for nothing if his friend said anything.

Khalfani nodded at the guard next to Steve and stepped aside. The guard removed his hand from the back of Steve's neck and hit him hard in his right ear. There was no doubt the blunt object from before had been a knuckleduster, Steve could say now for sure. Before he had a chance to recover, another punch came, even stronger than the first one and he felt a warm streak of thick liquid oozing down from his temple.

Steve was beginning to feel delirious, his ears ringing, his head in a spin. He heard Danny's voice, speaking to him, but he couldn't recognize the words anymore. He said nothing. Soon, he couldn't. The arm of the guard came back around and choked him again. Steve was too weak now, and it felt like there was nothing he could do to stop it. His lungs, heart, and brain were all starved of oxygen, and the world was quickly fading away once again. When it felt like he couldn't last another second, the arm was released. He gasped for air, his chest heaving rapidly.

"Let me ask again. Where are the kids?"

Steve didn't say a word, his brain was too confused to think of a response. His head hung down, the chin touching his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying once again to take his mind out of this place. But knowing Danny was in the same shitty situation as him made thinking of a happy place impossible.

"You son of a bitch," Danny said through gritted teeth, trashing on his restraints. "I'll kill you. You hear me? You're a dead man."

"Come on now, Detective," Khalfani said. "I thought you're more reasonable than your friend. Look at him. Do you think he can last a couple more rounds? Tell me what I want to know and I'll stop."

"I'm telling you… I don't know, okay? I had no idea about any of this until today."

Khalfani sighed. "Maybe you're telling the truth." His gaze shifted from Danny to Steve, then back. "Maybe you don't know where they hide them. But your friend does. Should we try a different approach then? Maybe you can help him change his mind about the silent treatment he's giving me. What do you think?"

Steve's heart sank. That was exactly what he'd been afraid of. And he wasn't sure if he'd be able to watch what was about to come. Not when it came to his best friend.

* * *

Dusk was falling when Junior and his companion arrived at a village. His throat felt scratchy and raw from the dust and heat. He'd silently replayed in his head over and over again what he'd seen back at the plantation and what had happened to Danny afterward. The guilt of leaving him and other kids there in the hands of the rebels was eating him alive.

He thought of the children back home - loved, secured, fed and warm, and the contrast of those boys on the plantation - stolen, starving, injured, working in such horrific conditions, living in terror, captive in slavery. The world was a horrible place, and today, Junior had been confronted with that horror in reality once again. No wonder Steve had become involved in trying to save them with Adama and Issa.

He rubbed his forehead, fighting the exhaustion threatening to take over him as he stared out of the Land Rover window. They drove along a muddy road, past small shops that looked like shacks, and some stalls selling food.

Issa slowed down and drove up another track in between thick banana trees. They emerged in a clearing in front of a large house built of wood. A group of boys ranging from the ages of about five to mid-teens were kicking a soccer ball to each other, running around and laughing. A man sat on the front step, with his arms around a little boy whose right arm was covered in big, ugly-looking scars.

"We'll take care of the boy here, don't worry." Issa turned off the engine. "I'll take him to our doctor. And then we can talk about your friends and how to help them."

"Thanks," Junior said, following Issa and Modou out of the car as the man patted the little boy on the shoulder. He stood up and walked towards them, his arms outstretched, a huge smile on his face.

Issa spoke in a foreign language to the man, looking at Modou and Junior several times while doing so. The man turned his attention to Modou and spoke to him softly. Issa then outstretched his arm toward the injured child, smiling at him. Modou gave Junior a quick look, as though asking for the reassurance. Junior flashed him a smile and nodded.

Modou grabbed hold of Issa's arm and they both walked away, leaving Junior and the other man alone. The man looked over, his smile never wavering as he nodded at Junior.

"Welcome," the man said. "My name is Oumar. It would be my pleasure to give you some refreshments. I think you had a tough day. Come, come." He turned around and walked towards the steps of the deck, touching the little boy on the shoulder as he went past.

"Hello." Junior stopped in front of the boy, who looked up at him. He could be around six or seven years old and he had sunken cheeks which made his eyes look even bigger in his emaciated face. He blinked, sending tears dribbling down his cheeks.

"Hey, don't cry." Junior wiped his tears with his fingertips and crouched down in front of him as Oumar followed onto the porch. He glanced at the boy's right arm, the uneven scars covering the most part of it. The boy was wearing clean shorts and a t-shirt. There were scars marking his legs and an old burn mark on his thigh too, Junior noticed.

"What's your name?" Junior smiled at him. The boy just stared at him with his huge eyes. It made Junior's heart melt, because he'd seen the same look of desolation and despair in those boys at the plantation. "My name's Junior," he said. "Aren't you playing with your friends?" He pointed at the other boys who were still kicking the ball while watching Junior openly with intrigue.

The boy sunk his head down onto his chest, not looking at him as his lower lip trembled.

"Junior, come," Oumar called from the porch. He was sitting on a rattan sofa, a tray of cold drinks was on the coffee table in front of him. He held out a glass of cold coconut milk, and Junior took it gratefully, drinking it down in one big gulp. "Food is being prepared. It will not be long."

Junior didn't realize how hungry he'd been until now. But his stomach was tight due to growing concern for his friends. "Thanks, but I don't think I'll eat. My friends are in trouble and I need to keep moving."

"I know," Oumar said. "Issa told me what'd happened. You're not in this alone. But eat first, you'll need some energy for your next move."

Junior nodded reluctantly. He didn't know these people, but they were his only chance to help Danny and Steve. They knew where does Khalfani Iwu keep them and they might help him get some guns. "Okay," he said eventually.

"This is Jamba." Oumar pointed to the small boy. "He came here about a year ago. Actually, he was the first child your friend had managed to save from that hell. Steve had risked a lot that day, but he'd returned safely and brought Jamba with him."

Junior noticed Jamba looked up with his tears-filled eyes at the man with the mention of Steve's name.

"They quickly grew really close," Oumar continued. "In fact, maybe a little too close. Jamba doesn't trust anyone, even after all this time here. But he and Steve were almost like a family. Jamba trusted him, opened up to him, and allowed himself to smile again. But Steve's death… Well after we thought Steve'd died in that plane crash, Jamba closed himself up even more and refused to talk to anyone."

"Is he all right? Did I scare him?" Junior asked, wondering why Jamba began to cry when he spoke to him.

Oumar smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "No, you did nothing wrong. You must've reminded him of Steve. He hasn't seen many foreigners around. As I said, they had a special bond and he's not himself ever since the plane crash."

"Doesn't he know Steve is alive?" Junior asked.

"No." Oumar shook his head. "We have the information it's been three days since Steve was brought in and knowing Iwu's rebels and their interrogation techniques, we can't be sure even someone as tough as Steve would survive that long. No one captured but Iwu has made it out alive yet. I don't want to give false hope to Jamba. He's been through a lot."

Junior gave him a sad smile, pushing the thought of Steve being dead for real this time out of his head. "Are these boys all from cocoa plantations?" he asked.

The man nodded. "I'm afraid so. Trafficking of children and their slavery had been going on a long time here. Even before Khalfani Iwu and his rebel army. But Iwu just made it much more attractive. The cocoa farmers used to pay a lot for a trafficked child slave. Most of them couldn't afford it. Now they can get them for free from the villages the rebels are massacring."

Junior stood up and walked to the railings at the edge of the decking, watching the boys playing. "How many children do you have here?"

"Too many." Oumar sighed sadly. "But we do what we have to do. We want to give them a chance for a normal life."

Junior nodded. "What about Modou?"

"You don't have to be worried about him. He'll get the medical attention he needs and we'll take good care of him here."

Junior nodded again and carried on watching Jamba, all alone, Junior's heart breaking, thinking about what he'd been through. Sensing he was being watched, Jamba turned around. Junior smiled at him. Slowly, he stood up and walked up the steps cautiously toward Junior until he was standing a meter away, just watching him.

Oumar said something to Jamba Junior couldn't understand, holding his hand out. The boy dropped his head to his chest and shook it.

"Jamba is learning English. I teach them here too. On the plantations, the children don't get such luxuries as schools. They are forced to work every day, all year, never getting paid. Harvesting cocoa is very dangerous. They must carry heavy loads. Frequently, they are beaten. They work with dangerous chemicals and pesticides. Some have accidents from the machetes." Oumar nodded to Jamba's arm. "His wounds became infected, but luckily Steve got to him right in time to get him medical help."

Junior nodded. It definitely sounded like Steve - always there when someone needed him the most.

"Jamba's parents were killed and he was kidnapped by the rebels from his village along with his brother. His brother did not make it out alive. He cut his thigh open when working and bled to death."

Junior's face turned into a furious snarl. He looked at Jamba with tears in his eyes.

"Yes, it is tragic," Oumar continued. "Accidents like that are not uncommon for these poor children. Some of them get sick, get bitten by poisonous snakes or spiders, they then die because they don't get treatment. They are disposable. If they try to run, the punishment is severe. They live in filth with no running water, living off cornmeal and bananas, sometimes forty, fifty children sleeping in a locked tin hut with no ventilation and no beds."

"So, what's the answer to solving this? Junior asked.

Oumar shrugged. "In some ways, it is very complex. In other ways, it is simple. What happens here is linked to the west. Without cocoa farms, this industry would crumble. But the international food giants know what's going on. The amount of money it would take to eradicate slave labor on the plantations is nothing compared to the obscene worldwide profits they make. But, of course, the big chocolate kings want to exploit our cocoa resources to feed a global market and make sure that how it's grown will never get out." He stared into the distance. "Child labor is an economic problem. You solve the poverty problem and you can eradicate slavery."

"Not that easy, huh?" Junior said. But there had to be a way to help somehow. Smuggling the kids out of there one by one was better than nothing, but not good enough. He wondered what was Steve's plan before he'd contacted Danny. His chest tightened with the thought of his friends.

"Why don't you say hello to Steve's friend, Jamba?" Oumar bent his head so he was on Jamba's eye level.

The boy shook his head but stepped closer to Junior, who held out his hand. Tentatively, Jamba reached for it and inched closer. Then he climbed up on Junior's lap and rested his head against his chest. Junior's heart cracked a little. He wrapped his arms around him and rocked him gently.

"It seems like you have made a friend." Oumar grinned.

The door to the house clattered open, and Issa came out with a tall boy who was maybe thirteen and grinning equally as broadly as Issa. "Hello," the boy said in accented English.

Issa clasped his arm around the boy and said, "This is my brother, Yaya. He works here now."

"Very soon, I will bring you vegetable stew and rice," Yaya said, treating Junior to an endearing grin. "I made myself. I want to be a chef."

"Thank you. It sounds delicious." Junior smiled at him.

"Why don't you come with me? I'll show you something," Issa said, looking at Junior. "We'll be back by the time food is ready."

Junior put Jamba back to his feet, stood up, and followed Issa into the back of the building, down a flight of stairs, until Issa stopped in front of the locked door and unlocked it. He opened the door wide and signaled Junior to follow him inside.

Junior couldn't hide a surprise on his face. He didn't expect this place to be armed, but Issa had proved him wrong. The small room had a couple of different rifles, explosives, grenades and ammunition. "Were you preparing for a war?" he asked.

"Something like that." Issa met Junior's gaze. "We wanted to be ready if the day came to fight and free the remaining kids. It took a long time to collect all this."

Junior's eyes shifted to the equipment again.

"Me and Oumar are both in," Issa said after a while. "We couldn't save Adama, but we might still be able to help Steve and your other friend. And finish that son of a bitch once and for all in the process. It might not solve the problem completely, but at least it'd be a big step forward. Maybe someone better will take over his place."

Junior flashed him a determined smile. "So when are we doing this?"

"Tonight."


	13. Chapter 13

Danny sensed what was coming and a mix of emotions flooded him. Anger, fear, but most of all, he felt sorry for his best friend. For the position he was in, torn between protecting him and protecting the kids. But speaking up wouldn't make a difference to him nor Steve. Khalfani would never let them go anyway. They knew too much.

Steve's eyelids flickered, but he never let his eyes off Danny, however hard that must've been for him. Danny knew his friend would go down the blame road, he'd known him for long enough to know that. The apologetic look in Steve's eyes would haunt him for a long time.

"I'm asking nicely the last time." Khalfani broke the silence. "Where are the kids and who is helping them?"

Steve stared at him defiantly but said nothing.

Khalfani didn't break eye contact with him. After a few seconds of no answer, he looked up and sighed, nodding at the guard close to Danny.

The guard strode over and launched his fist into Danny's stomach. The punch made him nauseous but he didn't make a sound. Without being given any time to recover, another fist came his way. A sudden blow into the side of Danny's face sent his world into a spin and filled his mouth with a familiar metallic taste of blood. Another punch, delivered with even more force, blurred his vision as well as his mind for a couple of seconds. The next one, to his chest this time, took his breath away. He groaned and gasped for some air, then stared at their captor defiantly. "You can do this all day," he said through labored breaths. His eyes sought Steve's, who seemed terrified. Then his gaze shifted back to Khalfani. "You'll never find out," he said.

"I'm not so sure about that," Khalfani said, his voice confident and calm. He looked at the guards behind Danny and said, "This would take forever. Let's speed it up. You know what to do."

One of the guards approached him, a knife in his hand, and held Danny's defiant gaze for a moment. Then two pairs of hands grabbed him from behind, one arm around his neck, squeezing hard, while other man held his bound arms. The guy with the knife crouched and surprisingly, he cut through the ropes on his ankles.

Despite his squirming and kicking, the men hauled him from the chair, threw him to the floor and pinned him down. He could feel the blade of the knife cutting through his skin on his forearm and in a few seconds, his hands were freed. Danny drew his brows in confusion, but the reason behind it soon became clear.

He mustered all the strength and tried to fight them off, tried to get the advantage while he had a chance, but the men moved quickly in unison and he didn't stand a chance. His arms were held, a knee placed into the back of his neck.

"You don't want to talk to me?" Khalfani said. "Well, this is what you get, then."

A loud cracking sound rang out. At first, Danny mistook it for a gunshot. The pain that came searing across his back told him exactly what it was. He gritted his teeth.

"No!" Steve's weak, but angry voice echoed the small cell. "Leave him out of this," he managed to croak.

Khalfani shot Steve a vicious grin and in a second, Danny heard another crack, then another, as a thick leather whip was lashed against his back. He only had a simple cotton shirt. It didn't offer much protection.

"Stop!" Steve demanded, but to no avail.

When the fourth crack came, Danny thought that he could actually feel the flesh on his back splitting wide open. He grimaced and shouted out. The pain was immense.

"Don't… He doesn't know anything."

"Maybe not. But you do." A smirk crept into Khalfani's face.

Steve struggled against the restraints uselessly. An attempt so futile, Danny barely noticed.

"You know, I can stop this," Khalfani spoke to Steve, who's eyes were now wide open and full of pure dread and hatred. "Just tell me what I want to know. It's completely up to you. In fact, I don't care which one of you'll speak first, as long as you tell me where do I find the kids. Along with some names of those involved in destroying my business."

When he got no answer from neither of them, he carried on. "You two might not believe it right now, but I'm not a bad guy here. Those boys work on the plantations and in exchange they get food and a place to sleep. They'd be lost without me, dying on the side of the roads. They get to live thanks to me."

"See, this is where we don't agree," Danny spoke up, pushing the pain into the back of the head. "I wouldn't call those conditions you keep them in life. I don't see anything good in this."

"It's all about the perception." Khalfani's voice was calm as his eyes darted between Danny and Steve. "So, which one of you would like to tell me where to find them? Or shall we continue?"

No answer.

"That's what I thought," Khalfani sighed and nodded at the guard behind Danny. "You guys might need more motivation."

"No, wait." Steve's voice was shaking. "Don't…"

Khalfani held his hand in the air, signaling the guard to wait. "You want to tell me something?"

Danny met Steve's desperate gaze and noticed his friend fought hard not to break. "I'm sorry, Danny. I… I can't," Steve whispered, fighting the tears that rushed into his eyes.

"I know. Don't tell him anything." Danny gave him a sad smile and readied himself for another lash which came in a couple of seconds. And then one more. And another one. He cried out again.

"Danny," Steve's voice broke as he jerked his body against the restraints with all the strength he'd had left in him. But in his current weakened state, there was no point trying, he was barely moving.

Danny tried to take his mind somewhere else, but the sound of the whip, Steve's desperate, pleading voice calling his name, the smell of the dank cell, the pain consumed him. He started to count the lashes to focus his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut on the seventh strike. His body was tense and unmoving, paralyzed by the searing pain ripping through him.

Danny managed to get to twelve before he lost count. After that he managed to open his eyes for long enough to look into Steve's glassy eyes, silently apologizing for putting him into this position. Then his brain finally succumbed and took him away from that place.

* * *

A voice speaking to him had brought Danny back from unconsciousness. It took his brain a moment to remember where was he and why. His back was on fire and a gnawing headache made it difficult to open his eyes. He blinked them open and saw a man standing in front of him and staring at him. Another one of Khalfani's guards. Instinctively, he jerked his body, a feeble attempt to fight the man, but he couldn't move. He was back on the chair, tied up just like before. But there was something different this time. Steve wasn't in the cell anymore, neither did Khalfani. It was just him and one guard only, at least as far as he could see.

The guard crouched down to Danny's eye level, watching over his shoulder to the door, then turning his attention back to Danny. He noticed a pocket knife in the guard's hand, but he didn't seem like he was about to use it.

The man held his gaze for a moment, then whispered, "Take two right turns, one left, then right again. The metal door on the left side of the corridor. I left it unlocked."

Danny scrunched his forehead, trying to process what the guard was saying.

"I'm on guard right now. I'll leave this door unlocked too." The man pointed at the door. "Wait for ten minutes, there will be another guard. I don't want them to find out about me."

Danny stared at the man, wondering what was going on. "Why are you helping me?" he asked.

"I worked for Adama. Someone had to be inside of this to give him the information." He looked over his shoulder again, checking the doorway. "But there is no time for chit-chat. Just get your friend and try to get away from here," he said as he cut through the ropes around Danny's ankles, then stood up. He moved behind him and freed his hands as well, then outstretched his arm, offering Danny the knife.

Grateful for the man's selfless actions, Danny took it and held the man's gaze. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I can't help you more, they'd kill me," the man said.

"No. No, you've done more than enough." Danny stood up, grimacing as a pain radiated down his spine.

"I have to go." The man checked the time on his watch. "Remember. Eight more minutes, so they don't see you while I'm still here."

Danny nodded and watched the man walk out of the doorway. Maybe there was still hope for them after all. His mind began to work harder, forcing himself to think about the next steps to take. Steve will need medical attention, there was no doubt, but it's not like he could just call an ambulance. No. He had to take him to the makeshift hospital he'd been at earlier. But what about Khalfani and his men? They'll be looking for him. What if that's exactly where they'll head first? What if someone over there is working for him?

He'd have to deal with it later. It was almost time. He kept replaying the man's instructions in his head. After what he'd estimated was eight minutes, he readied himself and approached the door, a knife ready in his hand.

Sucking in a deep breath, he pulled the door open, which surprised a guard standing right next to it. The guard's brain didn't have enough time to process the information, and as he reached for the rifle slung over his shoulder, Danny smacked an elbow into his head. The force of the blow was enough to leave the man's head in a daze and distract him for long enough to take hold of his gun.

Now armed, Danny decided the gun would be too loud and the knife too messy to use and he had to do this quietly. Before the guard could fully recover, Danny leaped out, lifted his hand, and smashed the gun into the side of the man's head. There was a loud crack at impact and the man headed for the ground in an instant.

Danny slung the rifle over his shoulders, grabbed the guard's wrists and dragged him inside the cell, then patted him down for anything useful. The key from the door was in the pocket of his trousers.

Danny took it and peeked out of the door, just a little at first, to make sure no one was there. The corridor seemed to be empty. He shut the door quietly and locked it behind him.

Holding the rifle in front of him, adrenaline rushing through his body, Danny sneaked past the walls, following the directions from the man. There was always a chance he was walking right into a trap, but there was only one way to find out.

Before taking the final turn, he listened behind the corner and heard footsteps coming from behind it. He listened some more. It sounded like a single person. He waited for the footsteps to get closer, then leaped up and threw himself into the guard, who's expression said he didn't expect that. The guard was about to shout when Danny swiveled around and wrapped his arm around the guy's neck, crushing his windpipe, making him unable to alert anyone. The man fought and squirmed, but Danny just squeezed harder, until the man's body went completely limp.

The metal door on the left side, he remembered the man's instructions. He hesitated as his hand touched the handle, wondering what might be behind that door. After a few moments, he pushed it open, aiming the rifle inside immediately. It wasn't necessary, yet what he saw, took his breath away.

Steve's still body lay on the hard, concrete floor, his swollen eyes shut and most of his body covered in dried blood mixed with fresh one gushing out of one of the wounds on his head. His hands were tied up behind his back and his body still.

Danny's legs went weak and for a few moments, his heart stopped. "Steve?" His voice was a mere whisper.

No response.

Without waiting another second he sprang forward and slid down onto his knees, reaching for Steve's carotid artery, his hands shaking violently in the process. The pulse was still there. There was a slight movement of his chest as well.

"Steve, buddy. Can you hear me?"

There was no reaction, not even the slightest sign of Steve acknowledging his presence.

He leaned forward to free Steve's hands, but he froze. The look at Steve's back, all cut out, skin split apart and covered with deep gashes and blood made his jaw drop. A surge of rage rushed through him with the image of what Steve's been through. He had a chance to get a taste of what it's like to be whipped by those bastards, but that was nothing compared to what they've done to Steve.

"Come on, Steve. Can you open your eyes for me? We need to get out of here." As he waited for the response, Danny cut through the restraints on Steve's wrists carefully, trying not to cause him any more pain.

He shuffled closer, carefully reaching for Steve's face, who's skin was clammy, his cheeks flushed and burning with fever. "Steve, please. I need you to wake up. We don't have much time."

Steve's eyelids flickered, but he'd failed to open his eyes. A quiet groan escaped his chapped lips.

"Hey," Danny said, lifting his friend's torso up into half-sitting position. He leaned Steve's battered body against his chest and wrapped his left arm around his shoulders to keep him upright. A part of him had still a hard time believing this was actually real, that Steve really was alive, and the physical touch had finally confirmed it.

With his eyes still closed, Steve murmured. His mouth opened and closed, but nothing intelligible came out.

"Shh, it's okay, buddy, I've got you now. Don't speak. Save your energy. We need to find a way out of here." Danny's heart thudded in his chest, his brain working overtime to figure out what to do next. There was not a chance Steve would be able to walk or stand on his own, let alone fight his way out. If he just dragged him out of here, someone would surely spot them and shoot them both.

Steve lifted a bloodied hand into the air. Danny took it. Steve's grip was weak. He saw strength in his eyes, though it only lasted a second.

"D'nny," Steve managed to whisper, his voice hoarse and croaky.

"I'm right here," Danny assured him and squeezed his hand, his heart aching. "I've got you, buddy. You'll be all right." He wasn't sure whether he'd tried to convince Steve or himself.

"Get… out of here." Steve's eyes opened a little, just enough to hold Danny's gaze.

"I'll get us out, don't worry." He had no idea how, though. Nothing came to his mind. How could he get out of the heavily guarded place, full of armed rebels with Steve on the brink of death?

Steve squeezed on Danny's hand a little harder. "No, you won't," he croaked, staring into Danny's eyes. "Not us. Get out. Please."

Danny shook his head. "I'm gonna blame that on a concussion or a fever. You can't possibly think I'd leave you here."

Steve's heavy eyelids closed again and his grip weakened. It took a moment before he'd managed to speak up again, his voice a choked whisper. "You… have to."

"Would you shut up?" Danny said. "Come on, let's get you on your feet. I'll help you up." He began to lift Steve up, but his friend refused to cooperate.

"Your living room," Steve said and fluttered open his eyes. "Second drawer from the top."

Danny scrunched his forehead. Steve was obviously completely out of it, which could undoubtedly be the consequences of the beating and the fever. "What are you talking about?"

"Sim…" Steve paused, gathering the strength to keep speaking. "Simon Dietrich."

"Dietrich? Who is he?" Danny asked.

"One-seven-five-one-zero," Steve began to mumble, then took in a breath and continued. "Six-six-seven-five-two."

It seemed it took him a real effort to form those words, as though it was something important, but Danny assumed Steve must've been delirious. No wonder.

"Check the newspapers," Steve whispered, ignoring him. "You have to hurry."

Danny shook his head, unable to listen any more. It didn't make any sense and whatever it meant, it could wait. "Let's go, buddy. We don't have time for this now," he said and once again began to rise, but Steve pulled his bodyweight down. "What the hell are you doing, Steve? Let's go!"

Steve squeezed his hand again, his gaze fixed on Danny's face. "I'd slow you down. Go," Steve said, his voice now weaker than before.

"No. I can carry you if I have to," Danny said.

Steve shook his head slightly. "Go," he repeated. "Please."

"Are you out of your mind?" Danny snapped. "I'm not leaving you here!"

"You don't have a chance with me." Steve released a painful groan and continued. "They'll kill us both."

"No. No. I'm not losing you. Not again." Danny's eyes watered. He knew Steve was probably right and their chances were extremely slim, close to zero, but he'd rather risk that than leaving Steve behind to increase his chances to get out of here. That was simply not an option. "Get your shit together, you hear me? I'll get us out, but I need you to try and help. Come on, let's go before they find out I'm gone."

Steve forced a sad smile. "S… sorry, buddy," he whispered as his eyes closed again and his hand slid down from Danny's, landing on the floor next to him.

"Steve!" Danny blinked away the tears threatening to fall. "Don't… Don't do this to me." He tightened his embrace, feeling the heat radiating from Steve's body. "Hang in there, I'll get you out, okay? Open your eyes, we need to move."

There was no response this time. Steve's only movements were barely noticeable and irregular rising and falling of his chest.

Danny couldn't hold it anymore and allowed salty tears flowing, still cradling Steve in his arms. "Don't you dare to die, Steven. You hear me? You're not allowed to die!"

Nothing.

Steve's body was limp and Danny checked for the pulse again, the acid in his stomach rising from the fear he might not find any. But Steve's heart was still beating, albeit weakly. "Come on." His voice broke. "I need you, buddy."

The realization hit him like a shard of glass stabbing him inside - Steve was right. He wasn't going to make it out of this hell. This time, he'd really be dead, just like others who'd been massacred out there. A pang of immense guilt flooded Danny's gut. It was all his fault. If he'd been more careful back home, they couldn't have used him to get to Steve and this would've never happened.

"Buddy," Danny whispered. He rested his forehead against the top of Steve's head feeling pain so physical, it was like a blade slashing through his flesh, shredding his heart.

"Steve, please." Danny wasn't even sure Steve could hear him anymore. But he refused to let go. Did he just get his best friend back miraculously, just to lose him again? Just so he could die in his arms? Was it some kind of cruel joke? Life screwing with him once again? His whole life was falling apart, throwing rocks under his feet all the time, and now he was losing the only person holding the pieces of his broken soul together. And he wasn't sure he'd be able to get through that this time. Not again.


	14. Chapter 14

The moonshine offered just enough light to make out the compound in front of Junior. The base of the secret police. Laying on the ground, cradling a rifle in his hands, Junior stared at the building through the foliage. Quite surprisingly in this part of the world, it was made of concrete and had two floors, the windows just big enough to let some essential light in. Issa and Oumar crouched next to him, following suit.

Junior counted twelve guards on the outside of the compound so far. But there were too many unknowns. He didn't know how many of Iwu's men were out of sight, what they were equipped with, or whether this was actually the right place. "Are you sure they're here?" he whispered, turning his head to Issa.

"If not, they're already dead," Issa whispered.

That wasn't an answer Junior wanted to hear. He looked at Issa and Oumar with determination in his eyes. "Okay, so here is the plan. You two stay here. I'll head through the jungle and around and attack them from the back. Wait for the first explosion, then go for it. It'll distract them, maybe even attract others from the inside, and they'll run towards it to find out what had happened. That's your chance to surprise them from the front."

Issa and Oumar looked unsure but after a few beats, they slowly nodded. They both looked a little scared. Junior had thought it long before now: these men weren't soldiers. Issa claimed he'd been in the army once, and he was certainly confident about his skills, but Junior wasn't sure if he could believe it. Even if Issa had told him the truth, the three of them against Iwu's army of the rebels they stood little chance. But they were all here now, and there was no way Junior would back up, with or without their help. Not with the two of his good friends inside, not knowing what Iwu and his rebels were capable of.

"You ready?" he asked.

They both nodded, this time more confidently.

Junior looked all around, though in the darkness he could see little.

"Then let's do this. Wait for the explosion."

Crouching and trying to make as little noise as possible, Junior made his way through the bush and headed to the high wall in the back of the land. Once he got there, he let go of the rifle which fell to his side and dangled from the strap on his shoulder.

The wall in front of him was topped with two lines of barbed wire, stacked on top of each other, connected by concrete posts that sprung up from the top of the wall. A hindrance, but not an insurmountable obstacle. It pointed to advanced security, rather than an impenetrable fort.

Moving to a position directly between two posts, where the wires had the most slack, Junior jumped up and clung to the lip of the wall. Using the strength in his arms and his core he swung his legs upward to the top and used his boots and his lower arm to lift the bottom wire several inches. He slid underneath, taking several scratches from the protruding barbs in the process, but nothing too severe.

Once he was sure he was clear he rolled off the edge and maneuvered himself feet first a moment before his boot soles thudded into the ground. He rolled into the fall, but the hefty impact still sent a shuddering pain through his knees.

He took a moment to look around. The main gates and a newly erected wooden guard tower next to them were visible in the distance. The tower had a searchlight that was pointed in front of the gates, but other than that there was no illumination on the inside of the compound, and little activity, the guards on duty all quiet and still.

Using the darkness as his cover, he slowly moved for the back of the building, a quarter step each at a time. In daylight, he would have been spotted immediately. In the night, with the guard detail at their posts at the gates tired and bored, he was unseen.

He crept along the wall. As he reached the corner of the building, Junior peered around. Through foliage he could make out a group of three guards, talking to each other, and another two standing about ten yards from them, besides the main entrance. Junior stared over to the guard tower again. Now they were closer he could make it out more easily. He could spot the tops of two heads inside. The rest of the rebels were out of his sight. Under the tower, there were two vehicles parked at the bottom, on the inside of the gates.

He reached into his backpack, readying himself for the action. He took out a grenade, and sucking in a deep breath he unlatched the safety pin. Aiming for the group of Iwu's men, he threw it away, and in a second, the first explosion rocked the whole party.

* * *

Danny glanced at Steve, quiet and still in his arms, then looked at the door of the cell. How he wished he had him by his side right now. His friend would surely come up with some crazy plan, but at least it'd give them a chance to live until the next day.

He knew he should try and run, fight Khalfani and his men and make it safe enough to come back for Steve and get them both out of this place. It was the only sensible option. Though he thought again about Steve. There was no way he was leaving him down here. Even if he was lucky enough to defeat all the armed men by himself, by the time Danny would return, Steve could be dead and he wasn't going to risk it.

"You're not dying here, you hear me?" Danny said, refusing to give up on his best friend. "I'm not leaving you here, you stubborn schmuck," he whispered, knowing Steve probably couldn't hear him. He wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks and forced his brain to think harder about the possible ways to get his friend out of this alive.

The simple and effective fireman's carry wouldn't work. Not with his cut out back, the waning strength, and the exhaustion that had set in. He wouldn't last half a minute. No, carrying Steve on his back wasn't a good option. He could just drag him out of here, but that would definitely be pretty painful for his friend. And neither option allowed him to use the gun quickly enough if necessary. But the last option was to simply sit there and wait for those men to walk in and kill them both.

Already decided, Danny lowered Steve on his side, careful not to cause any more injuries. The knot in his stomach was growing as he watched Steve's flushed cheeks on the otherwise pale and clammy face, his battered body, which was not even sweating anymore. That was definitely a problem and there was no time to lose. He reached for Steve's hand and gave it a light squeeze. "Hang in there, babe. Just a bit longer." His voice was a pleading whisper. "I'll get you out of here." A promise he wasn't sure he could keep.

He picked up the rifle from the floor, stood up, and headed toward the cell door. Pressing his ear on the metal, he listened for the presence of the rebels. Nothing. He pulled the door open and peered outside, the gun ready in his hands. There was no sign of anyone, except for the knocked out guard Danny had left there earlier.

He hung the rifle over his right shoulder carefully, gritting his teeth to ride out the pain, and strode back to Steve. He gave his unconscious partner an apologetic look and pulled him upright by his armpits until he had him in the sitting position. He moved behind Steve's back and crouched down. "I'm sorry, buddy," he said. "This is going to hurt." As carefully as possible, Danny wrapped his arms underneath Steve's, until he could hold onto his own wrists on Steve's chest. Unfortunately, that meant the part of Steve's torn back was leaning against Danny's chest, but he couldn't see any better option.

Running on nothing but adrenaline and survival instinct, he leaned back and pushed his feet into the ground, lifting Steve's still form, and began to walk backward, dragging Steve's feet on the concrete floor, gritting his teeth as the movement caused the jolt of agony travel across his own battered body. But he had to push through the pain, there were more important things to focus on. A futile attempt to save Steve's life being on top of the list at the moment.

Happy that the corridor in front of him was still clear, Danny slowly, cautiously made his way along, his breath quickening with the increased physical effort as he dragged Steve along. Finding every last ounce of energy and strength, he walked backward as fast as he could. Took the corner, then another one, looking for a way out. It would have made his life much easier if Steve was at least conscious, but that was not the case. Danny looked left and right. Still nothing. He moved further, listening for any sign of movement. As he approached the corner, he crouched down and leaned Steve against the wall. Partially to get a break and catch the breath, partially to check behind the corner safely.

Crouching next to Steve, still trying to get his frantic breathing back under control, he peeked from behind. Clear. He began to wrap his arms around his friend, ready to keep them moving when he heard the footsteps. They were coming from around the corner where he'd just checked a few seconds ago. Then the voices came. His brain whirred. As there was no other visible path, the guards were surely headed their direction and there was not a chance not to be spotted anymore.

Danny's eyes flicked to his unconscious friend. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to protect him, but he had to try. His eyes were heavy, his body sore and exhausted, and his mind foggy. But he would carry on as long as it took, or until he collapsed from exhaustion, or until he was shot dead, whichever came sooner.

The noises were now closer. Shuffling feet and muted voices becoming louder. He could make out two men at least. He didn't want to use the gun, that would give away their position and they'd be dead in a matter of minutes. He took out a knife, slunk across the wall to the junction from where the men would emerge any moment. They would surely be coming their way and Danny would have no choice but to fight them.

In a second, the left boot of one of the men came into view. Danny had to act fast. He spun around a hundred and eighty degrees, brought his elbow up. Using the added force from the momentum of the spin he crashed his elbow into the man's neck, the exact spot Danny had aimed for. The sharp bone crunched into the man's windpipe and he fell backward onto the floor clutching at his throat, gasping for breath.

Another guard's eyes locked with Danny's. A confused look of fury on the well-built guy's face. The man seemed to go for his gun for a moment, then decided not to, probably assuming it would've been too slow. Danny readied himself as the man lunged forward. The man grabbed Danny around the neck, lifted him clean off his feet, and then burst forward and slammed Danny up against the wall. Danny pinned in place, the guard used his free arm to hold the knife at bay, as Danny squirmed and choked.

The man leaned back and drove his head into Danny's. The head-butt caught Danny at the bridge of his nose. His vision blurred. His head lolled. The second blow even more vicious than the first. Blood poured down Danny's face. He coughed and spluttered, trying to breathe, but the grip on his neck was too tight. Through his blurred vision, all he could see was the blood-smeared head of the guard, contrasted by the white teeth of his horrible grin.

"Now I'm not sure if I should finish you off, or take you to the boss." The man spoke in accented English and craned his neck. "Would you like to see him?"

"Yes," Danny managed to croak.

His answer seemed to flummox the guard momentarily. Danny mustered everything he could. He hauled his knee up and caught the guard in the groin. The big man groaned but his vice-like grip on Danny's arm and neck didn't let up at all. Danny hit him again. The man snarled. The hand around Danny's neck squeezed harder. Danny was on the brink.

One last try. He lifted both his knees, curled his legs up as high as he could. Using the wall behind him as a springboard he heaved out with his heels, driving them into the man's waist. Despite his strength, the big man stumbled a half-step back. His grip slipped from Danny's wrist just a fraction. It was all he needed.

Danny pulled his arm free and drove the knife into the guy's neck. The blade sank deep inside until Danny's fist was pressed up against the man's skin. The guard groaned then roared in anger. Danny pulled the knife away and thick, red blood gushed out. Somehow the grip on Danny's neck became tighter still. Danny gulped and gasped for breath, not sure what else he could do.

Then the guard's eyes rolled. His free hand went up to his neck, in a pathetic attempt to stem the flow. There was no way that was going to work. He stumbled back. Danny came away from the wall. His toes scraped the ground but the man still had hold of his neck. He writhed, trying to get free. No use. The man plummeted backward, taking Danny with him.

They landed in a bloody heap on the floor. Danny, gasping for air, his brain fuzzy and distant, wrestled free, pulled himself up and looked down. The man squirmed for just a few more seconds as blood continued to gush. Then he went still.

But no time for rest. A familiar voice brought Danny back to reality. It was the language he didn't recognize, but the voice belonged to the head of secret police. It came from the radio of the first guard.

He was still on the floor. Hissing and wheezing as he tried to breathe through his crushed windpipe, his whole body shaking violently. Danny didn't fancy their chances. Yet he made a move for the radio, in case he'd use it later. He picked the radio out of the man's belt.

Again came the voice from it.

Still trying to draw enough air into his lungs, Danny spun around, squelched through the blood pool, past the dead man to Steve. He scanned over him in concern. His friend didn't have much time and Danny wasn't sure how much longer he could keep going, especially with Steve's still body. But he refused to give up.

His body aching, sore, and depleted, Danny began to lift his friend, when the explosion sounded in the distance. Almost immediately there was shouting from the different directions - guards instructing each other, readying themselves. And then heavy gunfire somewhere in the distance started. What the hell was going on? Was there any chance it was Junior?

He had no idea what the explosion had been or who'd caused it, but it gave them an advantage, distracting the armed rebels from them. He mustered his strength again and wrapped his arms around Steve, once again going backward, heading to who knows where through now empty corridors. Whatever had happened, it probably attracted the guards and made their escape easier.

Danny carried on, dragging Steve's feet on the floor, fighting through the exhaustion as the voices and the gunfire grew louder with each step. When he reached the stairway, he lowered Steve down, resting him against the wall, desperately in need of a break.

Another explosion, this time bigger and closer. The whole building shook. Walls and ceilings creaked. Dust fell from above and filled the air.

Danny's head whirred. The sounds were coming from upstairs. If they came up there, they'd be walking right into the unknown chaos and there was no way he could protect Steve and himself in the middle of that.

His eyes darted to the sides. A wooden door on the left side of the staircase caught his attention. He strode toward it, tried the handle. It was unlocked. Danny peered inside of what seemed like a maintenance room, then spun around, leaving the door open.

Hiding Steve inside while he'd go up there seemed to be the best option at the moment. He had to know what was going on. Maybe that was their chance to get out of here. But going up there with an unconscious body would be a suicide mission.

He dragged Steve inside, carefully lay him on his side. His hand reached for Steve's arm and gave it a light squeeze, fear about his friend's life tightening his chest. "Hang in there. I'll be right back, buddy," he ensured him, although he wasn't sure Steve could hear him.

Gripping the rifle in his hands, determined to fight their way out, Danny stood up and closed the door behind him. He spun round and darted across the corridor to pull up against the wall next to the staircase. He risked a peek. Clear.

Rifle lifted in the air, he made his way to the top of the staircase and peered outside of the door. No one in sight. Just the gunfire coming from outside of the building. He kept going, passed another door, slowed as he rounded each corner to avoid running head-on into an ambush.

He stopped to catch the breath, fighting to remain upright. A second later, two uniformed guards scurried round the corner into the corridor where Danny had earlier come from. One of the men opened fire, the second one followed soon.

Danny huddled on the floor while returning the fire almost without aiming. But the bullets sent both men falling to the floor. He found the strength to get back to his feet and stepped over the bodies of the two dead guards, then ran along the corridor. More gunfire from outside. More shouting. Who had the upper hand, Danny couldn't tell.

Soon the main entrance was in sight, the sound of gunfire growing all the time. He saw a man in the camouflage uniform scurry across in front of the open doorway. A blast of gunfire and the man collapsed to the ground.

The exit was fifteen yards ahead and he was about to move in that direction to see what was going on. He lunged forward.

"Don't move!" came the shout from behind him. A familiar voice. "Don't you fucking move."


	15. Chapter 15

Danny stopped. Half-turned so he could see. Two of the guards, with the barrels of the automatic rifles trained on his head. Khalfani stood between them with a snarl on his face, a handgun pointed at Danny.

His head fired with a thousand thoughts as he began to raise his gun. But he simply couldn't move quickly enough. One of the men swiped the butt of his weapon and it crashed against Danny's jaw and sent him reeling. Before he'd recovered the gun was removed from his hands and the butt of a rifle was thrust into his belly. He groaned and doubled over in pain.

"Leaving so soon?" Khalfani asked, mocking in his voice obvious. "I thought we were getting along just great."

Danny managed to straighten up and stared at him with defiance in his eyes. He pushed away thoughts of his damaged state. He could show no weakness. The gunfire still booming outside was the only thing interrupting the silence.

With a sneer on his ugly face, Khalfani took two steps toward Danny, who held his eye.

Danny clenched his fists, his head brimming with rage. "I wouldn't have left without saying goodbye," he said.

"Oh, really? You think you're the big man here?" Khalfani said.

"No. I'm not the one that kills unarmed children. Clearly, you're the big man."

While it wasn't necessarily a good idea to antagonize these sadists, Danny had to buy time one way or another.

A grin disappeared from Khalfani's face. "You better watch your attitude."

Danny held his gaze, his mind working out the next move. "Or what? You'll shoot me?"

"You know, I liked you more when you didn't speak." Khalfani's finger twitched on the trigger. "And I considered you the smart one out of the two of you. Where is your friend, by the way? You're leaving without him?" The mocking tone made Danny's blood boil.

"No. I just thought you and I could have a little chat first, you know? Set things straight."

More gunfire came from outside. Danny didn't look there, neither did any of the men.

Khalfani bared his teeth at the sound and began to move his gun down, turning to walk away in the direction of the gunfire. "I don't have time for this now. Kill him," he barked as he made a step forward.

This was it. The two guards at the front, either side of Khalfani, flinched as they made sure of their aim. Danny had to move.

Adrenaline rushing through his veins, he dropped his weight, ready to spring up at the knees, and to the side. His feet were just leaving the ground when he heard another explosion outside, followed by screams.

With Danny still falling, time slowed. Gunshots boomed from the outside. The two guards with their guns on Danny opened fire too, but his trajectory took him away from their line of fire, helped along by the blast wave from the explosion, which, given its size, Danny guessed must have been the C-4.

As he plummeted toward the ground, he reached for a rifle laying on the floor just a few feet from him. It must've fallen out of the guy's hands. In the next second, he managed to pull the rifle into position. He squeezed the trigger and held it down. A flurry of bullets cascaded out of the barrel. The guard on Khalfani's left went down. Danny twisted the weapon, finger still depressed. Not as good an aim this time. Only one bullet hit the guard to Khalfani's right, in his side, as he ran toward the cover along with his boss.

Danny had no time to adjust and cushion his fall to the ground, and the clattering impact to his side sent a wave of agony shooting through his whole body.

For a moment his head fogged. He did his best to fight through it. Scrambled to his feet. Darted sideways and fired more shots without aiming, hoping to keep the enemies at bay. But he didn't see anyone around anymore. He sprang toward the exit, peeking outside.

One of the vehicles was parked about fifteen feet from the doorway. Gathering every piece of strength Danny sucked in a breath and dived toward it for cover.

The next second he heard shouting off to his left as the same man who'd helped him earlier, along with another man who Danny didn't know, ran into the open, weapons drawn and firing. Then he caught a glimpse of another two men emerging from behind the corner on his right, one of which was his younger colleague. Junior and another man Danny had never seen before held their guns high and opened fire. The sound of shooting now bombarded Danny through 360 degrees.

Danny inched the barrel across, fired. Caught the guard he'd already wounded for a second time. As he collapsed to the dirt one of Junior's crew reached him and crashed his heel down into the guard's face. Danny would leave the rest to him.

Two more explosions, smaller, but closer now, caused Danny to hunker down for a second. When he lifted his head another guard, blood pouring down his face, was bearing down on him. Danny went to pull the rifle toward him, but he didn't have time. The man, snatching a hunting knife from the sheath on his side, screamed with rage as he launched himself at Danny, sending the weapon sliding onto the ground, away from his reach.

Danny twisted away. Held his forearm up. Managed to block the knife before planting his elbow into the man's side. The man landed on top of Danny, knocking the wind out of him.

As Danny gasped for breath, the guard, his face creased with anger, tried again. The blade was headed right for Danny's face. Danny grabbed the man's wrist and jerked sideways and upwards, to push the blade away. The knife twisted around. The blade sank into the guard's chest.

As the man gurgled, Danny let go of the wrist, balled his fist and hammered it into the knife's handle, plunging the blade several inches into the man's head. His body jolted and spasmed as blood poured from the wound and from his mouth.

Danny heaved the dead weight off him. Gritted his teeth in pain as he rose to his feet. He glanced down to his side to see blood seeping through his shirt. Given the pain he was in he could only imagine the guy had managed to cut into his flesh in the chaos and the wound would need some stitches.

He lifted his head and looked around, trying to slow down his frantic heartbeat as the gunfire continued. His eyes stopped on the black SUV nearby. One of Khalfani's men started the engine, waiting for his boss to get inside. Danny wasn't going to let that happen.

Once again, summoning an inner strength, he darted forward. The driver spotted him first, and shouted out to Khalfani who spun around. Danny was only two yards from him by that point and he launched himself forward, both feet off the ground. He flew through the air as Khalfani tried to get into a defensive position. He didn't have a chance. Danny smashed into him, and both men landed in a tangled heap on the floor next to the car.

Danny heard shouting from the guards. He could only hope no one would shoot and risk their boss being killed.

With Danny dazed from his deliberating injuries, it was Khalfani who moved first. He spun around, wound his arm around Danny's neck and pulled.

Danny grimaced and spluttered for breath as his neck was crushed, the arm pushing against his windpipe. He bucked, trying to kick out at Khalfani who was positioned behind him, both men on their sides, but he couldn't get an angle for any of the shots to make a difference. He threw his elbow out behind him, several times in quick succession. He wouldn't tell where exactly the blows hit, but eventually, Khalfani released his grip just enough for Danny to force his forearm through the gap between the arm and his neck, and he used the strength in his upper arm and shoulder to pull Khalfani's arm over his head.

Running on nothing but adrenaline and survival instinct, Danny spun and jumped back to his feet, just as Khalfani did the same. Danny glanced at the other side of the car. The driver was now standing outside, lifting his weapon. More shouting came from behind him, and the guard readjusted his aim, shooting in the direction of the screams and someone returned the fire.

Khalfani momentarily glanced at the driver who was under fire and Danny lurched forward. He lifted his knee, aiming for his stomach, but Khalfani was no amateur and Danny's injuries made the fight even more uneven. He blocked Danny's leg with ease, then spun around and delivered a roundhouse kick that caught Danny in his kidney and sent him down onto one knee.

Khalfani hauled up his knee, aiming for Danny's chin, but Danny had just enough time to shift his head back. In a reflexive move, he grabbed hold of Khalfani's dangling leg, aiming to use it to topple him, but instead, the movement sent a sharp pain spreading through his battered body and he was forced to let go.

As Khalfani righted himself, Danny clambered back to his feet, hoping the pain would pass. It was so bad his sight was once again blurred and jittery.

He noticed Khalfani rushing forward, but this time could only make a futile attempt at blocking the hook. Danny tried in vain to counter, but Khalfani grabbed his arm, twisted it behind Danny's back and delivered an elbow into his head.

Through the agony, his head in a spin, Danny found himself down on one knee again, and he was struggling to muster any fight. Khalfani seemed to get that. He wound up for a killer blow.

Was this how it's going to end? For a split second, faces of Grace and Charlie sneaked into his weary mind. His kids expected their father to return home, spoil them with love, be there for them until the very end. Then he remembered Steve, whose life might depend on the outcome of this fight. No. It wasn't over. His family needed him.

Danny saw one last desperate hope. He didn't know where he found the strength but he sprang to his feet and rushed for Khalfani, barrelled into him and kept on going. His legs taking the weight of both men, Danny powered forward and slammed Khalfani into the SUV. There was a cracking and squelching sound, and Danny wondered if he'd just snapped several of Khalfani's ribs.

As he stepped back, he realized it was worse than that. Worse for Khalfani at least. Khalfani stayed on the ground, pulled himself a few inches forward, grimacing in pain.

Danny saw the sharp, rusty piece of metal sticking out from above the back wheel, in the height of Khalfani's back. Blood dripped from it.

Danny, snarling, stared into Khalfani's eyes. He was still breathing. Still moving. Danny couldn't have that. Not after what he'd done.

His eyes darted to the sides, noticed the rifle of now dead driver. He picked it up. He only realized as he readied the rifle that the gunfire had stopped. He scanned around then flinched at the sound of a single gunshot, but soon realized it was one of Junior's men, twenty yards away, putting Khalfani's man out of his misery.

Against the odds, Danny and the others had come out on top. But he wasn't quite finished yet. His gaze shifted back to the man on the floor. Danny, his face blank, raised his gun.

Danny's chest heaved in and out from the exertion of the fight. His teeth were clenched, his whole body on fire, blood pouring down his face and seeping into the light fabric of his torn shirt. The rage was almost impossible to control. He could feel its power consuming him. He wanted to kill Khalfani. He wanted to punish him, teach him a lesson for what he'd done to Steve, for what he and his people had done to hundreds of innocent kids. He deserved a bullet into the head. His execution wouldn't be a great loss to the world. Who cared the bastard was now injured and unarmed? Who cared this wasn't right? Danny's finger twitched on the trigger.

"Danny, no!" Junior shouted.

Danny paused but didn't lower the gun. He looked to Junior who limped over.

"Don't," Junior said as he neared, along with the three strangers.

Danny held Khalfani's raging gaze. "He deserves it," Danny said without breaking eye contact.

"I know. You're right," Junior said. "But not like this."

Danny's mind flicked to several years ago when he'd been in a similar position. When his brother had been murdered, Danny stood above the man who'd killed him and hesitated for a moment before pulling the trigger. The act that had gotten not only him, but Steve and the whole team into serious trouble and could've cost them their lives.

This time, the man in front of him not only brought his other brother to the brink of death, maybe even killed him, but the kids were dying and suffering because of this guy. The thought of Steve, though, made Danny hesitate. His partner had been there the last time. Steve knew how much guilt had Danny had to get through afterward because he'd been there for him the whole time, doing everything in his power to help Danny get through the grief and guilt. He'd probably hold Junior's side on this one.

But what was the other option? Khalfani was the head of secret police and had an army of rebels on his side. This was not like the West. There was no one here to make sure he'd stand trial and spend the rest of his life in jail.

"Steve?" Junior asked.

What did he mean by the question? Is Steve here? Is Steve still alive? Danny wasn't sure.

The knot in Danny's stomach grew with the thought of his friend, unconscious inside of this hell hole. He had to get him out of this place as soon as possible. If it wasn't too late already. There was no time to lose with this bastard. "He's inside," he said. "We need to get him to a hospital."

"Lead the way," Junior said. "Let the boys take care of him." Junior gestured toward Khalfani.

Danny didn't move.

"Danny? Come on."

Torn, his gun still trained on Khalfani, who had an angry snarl on his face, Danny eventually nodded and two of Junior's new friends began to walk towards Khalfani. Danny wondered what will they do with him.

Decided Steve was now a priority, he lowered his gun and began to turn, when in the corner of his eye he'd caught a glimpse of quick movement of Khalfani's hand, reaching under the car. Danny sensed what was coming. In a moment, a barrel of the handgun was pointed at him, Khalfani's finger twitching on the trigger. Junior and the other three men began raising their guns too. But Danny was half a second faster. Turning his torso back to Khalfani, he'd lifted his weapon and fired.

A single shot. The bullet smacked into the middle of Khalfani's forehead and a pulse of blood sprayed out from his skull as his body jolted backward and thudded down onto the ground.

"Thanks for giving me a reason," Danny barked at the dead body and turned around. He headed inside and picked up his pace, Junior following suit while others waited outside.

Rushing toward the place he'd left Steve, he felt the adrenaline of the fight waning, making every step more and more difficult. They reached the maintenance room in less than a minute and Danny slammed the door open, his heart clenching with fear what condition Steve would be in.

Steve lay at the exact same place where Danny had left him, his body still.

Chest heaving from exertion, blood dripping down his face, Danny slumped on the floor next to Steve. He pressed his shaking fingers on Steve's neck for the third time that day, hoping he wasn't too late. Weak, but the pulse was still there.

"Steve? Come on, let's get out of here." Danny kept holding onto his friend, panic creeping into his voice.

No response from Steve.

"We need to get him out," he said, his heart racing, ignoring Junior's half-surprised face. He assumed his colleague was as surprised to see Steve alive as he'd been earlier.

Junior shook his head into clarity and quickly jumped forward, grabbing Steve under his left armpit, wrapping his arm around him, while Danny took the other side.

Biting through the pain, Danny pushed his feet into the floor as they lifted him up. Without a word, they rushed outside, where the green jeep had been parked, the passenger door in the back open. Behind the wheel, one of the men who'd helped them stared at them, signaling to hurry up.

Working as fast as he possibly could, he lay Steve into the back seat with Junior's assistance, then jumped inside, resting Steve's head on his legs. Junior spoke a few words to the other two men, then got into the front passenger seat, and the man sped out of the compound, listening to Junior's instructions of the destination.

"This is Issa," Junior introduced the driver, looking at Danny over his shoulder. "A friend of Steve and Adama."

Danny flashed a smile into a rear mirror. "Thanks for the help, Issa," he said. "We wouldn't make it without you guys."

"You're welcome," Issa replied without looking at him, focused on rushing through the dirt roads. "How is he?"

He glanced over Steve, his chest tight with fear he might still lose him for good this time. "Not good," Danny replied. "We need to hurry."

"He is a fighter. If someone can survive this, it's him," Junior said, his eyes scanning them both. "How about you, Danny?"

"I'm fine," he lied, clutching on his wounded side. The knife cut wasn't too serious, but soon, the wound would have to be treated and the bleeding stopped. "Just a little banged up."

Junior didn't reply and Danny knew he wouldn't buy it. But he nodded and turned his gaze onto the road in front of them again.

Danny looked down and cupped Steve's face in his hand, frowning. Steve's body was burning, fever fighting inside his body. Danny released a worried sigh, the voice catching in his throat. "We did it, Steve," he said. "I told you I'd get you out, didn't I?."

Steve's eyelids flickered and a quiet groan escaped his lips.

"Hey," Danny whispered softly. "You awake?"

Steve murmured, tried to speak up, to open his eyes just a little, but he'd lost that battle.

"You'll all right. I got you, buddy," Danny said, his voice shaking. "We're almost there. It won't be much longer."

"There is bottled water under the seat in the back," Issa spoke up.

Danny thanked him, reached for the plastic bottle and opened it up. He lifted Steve's head with his left hand and held it up. His hands trembling, he lifted the bottle to Steve's lips, just enough for him to feel the moisture. Steve frowned and groaned again.

"Come on, drink up," Danny said, dripping a few more drops on Steve's parched lips. It took several attempts, but eventually, Steve managed to take in several small gulps of the liquid before refusing to drink any more. Not nearly enough to keep him going.

"This isn't working," Danny said. "He's too weak. We need to get him on IV."

"I'm doing my best," Issa said, his eyes on the road. "We should be there in about thirty minutes if we maintain this speed."

That was an awfully long time, Danny thought. But what was he supposed to do? He couldn't speed it up. The only thing he could do was being there for Steve, try to keep him as comfortable as possible by the time they reach the hospital. He downed the rest of the water in three gulps, the liquid soothing his aching throat.

"What about those two men who stayed back there?" Danny asked.

"Oumar and Majid," Junior said. "They'll take the other car, don't worry. Oumar and Issa joined me on this rescue mission. Majid is their inside man. He didn't know we were coming, but as soon as we started the attack, he joined in."

Danny nodded. He had too many questions about these guys and how did Junior find them, but he had no mood or energy to talk about it right now. Not until he knew Steve was safe. But there was one question lingering on his mind that he had to ask. "Did you manage to get that boy to safety?"

"Yes. He's in good hands now," Junior said. "But that stunt you've done back on the farm was crazy. I guess you've been working with Steve for way too long." There was a slight hint of reprehension in Junior's voice.

Danny didn't answer. Junior was right. It was crazy. A suicide mission. And he knew he probably wouldn't have made it without the help of strangers from Adama's group. But it worked. Everything he'd been through was worth it if it saved the life of just one of those kids. And moreover, if Khalfani's men didn't get him and bring him to their boss, who knows how long it would take him to find out Steve had been actually held prisoner here. He probably wouldn't have found him on time.

The rest of the ride was mostly quiet. Danny had to force his eyes open several times, fighting the exhaustion. But when he finally saw the guards of the makeshift hospital in front of them, a new wave of energy surged into him.

The vehicle slowed down and Issa pulled down the window. Stopping by the guards, he spoke in a foreign language and they quickly waved him in, calling someone through radio immediately.

There was a risk some of these guys might work for the rebels, but with their boss dead and no one to pay for their services, Danny hoped they won't be after them. If he was wrong, they'd have to deal with it later.

Issa stopped by the big tent, where a familiar doctor stood along with a young woman, both dressed in identical scrubs.

Pete scrunched his forehead in surprise when they got out of the vehicle. "Junior? Danny? What are y-" He glanced at Danny and his jaw dropped. "Danny. What happened?" Pete's eyes widened further when he finally noticed Steve's still body completely covered in blood. "Is that…?"

"Yes. It's Steve," Danny said, already working on getting his friend out of the car with Junior's help.

Pete spoke to the nurse, who sped away, disappearing inside of the tent. Pete pointed inside. "This way! Hurry. Get him inside."

As Danny and Junior rushed Steve into the tent. Pete's eyes scanned through them. "What happened?" Pete asked.

There was no time for full explanation now. "Khalfani Iwu and the rebels did this," Danny said and caught Pete's frightened gaze. There was no need to explain any further for now.

The young nurse rushed in their direction, now pushing the empty bed on the wheels in front of her. Pete gestured them to put Steve on the bed.

Carefully, Danny and Junior lowered their friend's battered body on it and Danny grabbed Steve's hand. Steve's eyelids fluttered, but his eyes remained closed. "It's okay, buddy. You're in a hospital now. You'll all right," Danny said, squeezing Steve's hand lightly. What a big, fat lie. Steve was far from all right and it was basically his fault. His friend had asked him for help and instead of helping, he actually managed to hand him over to the people he'd been hiding from for ten months. People who'd tried to kill him. People who had done all this to him.

"Wait here, please," the nurse said and began to push the bed away into the other part of the tent, divided by a textile curtain. His heart flinched when he let go of his friend's hand and watched him disappear behind the curtain and he had to blink away the tears threatening to fall.

Danny closed his eyes for a couple of seconds as he fought against the sense of despair. He felt like the walls were closing in on him, making him unable to breathe. The image of his best friend being hurt right in front of his eyes was going to haunt him for a long time. The relief after finding out Steve's been alive this whole time turned into utter desperation and dread. He didn't have to be a doctor to understand the seriousness of his condition and the fact he could still lose him for real this time.

"Danny, he is in good hands," Pete brought him back from his thoughts. "I'll do everything in my power to help him."

"I know," Danny croaked.

"You're injured too. Let us have a look." Pete pointed at his bloodstained shirt. "I'll send one of the nurses over."

Danny shook his head. "No. Take care of Steve first, I can wait."

"But…"

"Please. I won't go anywhere. I promise I'll let you have a look at me once you take care of him."

There was a moment of hesitation before Pete nodded and turned on his heel, rushing into the back of the tent.

A hand squeezed his shoulder. He looked to the right to see it was Junior. With the adrenaline that had fuelled him and spurred him on earlier now completely gone, the pain was once again increasing every second. Except for the throbbing headache, his back was on fire and the wound on his side was still bleeding slowly. He looked down on his trembling hands, covered in blood, unsure how much was Steve's and how much was his own.

The event from last week, since he'd received the photograph addressed to him from Steve, came crashing on him. The message written on the back, the familiar nickname, Steve's face and the confusion that had swept through him as he stared at it for the first time. And then it clicked. The photo Steve'd sent him. The newspapers Steve had been holding on that photo. The headline of the article on the front page. Suddenly, everything that Steve had told him in that damp cell made sense. Why didn't he figure it out sooner? His friend still wanted him to help. He wanted Danny to finish off what he'd started.

His weary brain whirred with thoughts as he furrowed his brow, putting the pieces together.

"What is it?" Junior asked, noticing the change of demeanor. "You okay?"

He nodded. "I think… I think I know how to stop this."

Junior and Issa both stared at him, expecting an explanation.

"Steve figured it out. We have to call the team. We have to stop this madness and get the boys out of those plantations." He realized how parched his throat had been when he spoke.

He made two wobbly steps forward, heading to the barrel with drinking water when the pain and exhaustion took over. His world went into a spin and suddenly, his legs went from under him. He would have crumpled to the floor hadn't Junior and Issa caught him.

"Hey, Danny." Junior's voice was full of concern. "Danny!"

"I'm okay," he mumbled, unsure if that was even loud enough for Junior to hear him. "Just… tired." It was a lie and he knew it. But there were only two doctors and three nurses in here and he didn't want to take their attention from Steve.

Junior helped him down on the floor. A sudden weakness surprised him, although he expected it to take over much sooner. He was slowly drifting. His body had deserted him. His eyelids drooped shut and he had to wrench them open again.

He heard Issa's voice calling for help in the distance. Unable to move, he tried to focus on the figure of Junior looming over him.

"It's okay, you're okay."

Junior's voice was warm and comforting.

"Danny?"

Danny said nothing this time. He couldn't. His eyelids closed and everything turned black.


	16. Chapter 16

It was the gentle hum of fluorescent lights that woke Danny. Slowly, he opened his eyelids. They felt heavy. His vision was covered in fog and the lights were blurred bubbles floating around him.

Somewhere near, there was an electronic beeping noise. And the low murmur of the fluorescent lights. Danny knew that sound by heart. How many times had it awoken him? Too many.

He must've been looking at someone because a voice - someone familiar - whispered to him. Danny tried to speak up, to ask the first question that had been on his mind. But just as quickly as the buzzing sound woke him from the strange sleep he'd been in, easily, he fell back into it.

The next time Danny woke, the haze from his vision had all but diminished. And he wished it hadn't. Junior stood next to the bed Danny was in and the expression on his face was full of worries and concern.

"Hey, Danny." Junior's voice was constricted.

Danny moved his mouth to speak, but his voice had betrayed him and nothing but a quiet groan came out of his lips at first. He mustered the strength and tried again.

"Where," he began with a tinge of panic in his voice. His voice came out all hoarse and raspy. He cleared his throat and said, "Where is -" He couldn't finish. But he didn't have to.

"Steve's right here." Junior pointed to the bed on Danny's left. "He's sleeping."

Danny's head turned slowly to the side and his eyes landed on his friend's battered body. Steve lay on the bunk next to his with an oxygen mask attached to his face. Facing Danny, he lay on his side, eyes closed but his bare chest rising and falling. Danny closed his eyes for a moment and relaxed.

"How do you feel?" Junior asked.

Like shit, Danny wanted to say. The exhaustion, a throbbing headache, in combination with the cuts on his back, the beating he'd taken, and a knife wound on his side, made every small move a painful process despite the drugs that were surely circulating in his system.

"Better," he said instead.

"Good. It'll take you a while to heal, but you'll be all right. You were lucky the wounds didn't get infected. Pete said he can give you sedatives if you'd like. To help you with sleep and recovery."

"No," Danny said. "I don't want that," As groggy as he still felt, he wouldn't take his eyes off his best friend.

Was Steve in a coma? Junior said only that he was sleeping, but Danny wasn't so sure. He was alive, though. That was the main thing.

"Has he been awake at all?" Danny managed to ask.

Just one look at Junior's face had told him something was very wrong.

"Briefly, but he wasn't overly lucid," Junior said. "He woke up vomiting blood, choking on it." The young man frowned, apparently trying to drive those images away. "He hasn't been awake since."

"Did he, uh…" Danny paused, forcing his heavy eyelids to remain open. He needed to know how was his friend. "Did Pete tell you more? About Steve, I mean."

Junior's gaze shifted to Steve for a moment, his look concerned. He didn't answer for a couple of long seconds. "Yeah, he did," he said eventually, locking his eyes on his feet, meddling his hands.

Danny didn't like where this was going. His chest tightened with fear. "Just tell me."

Junior shut his eyes closed for a second and sucked in a deep breath before looking at Danny with an apologetic look in his eyes.

"Junior. What is it?" Danny's heart was now drumming in his chest like it was about to jump out.

Junior brushed the palm of his hand over his face and released a heavy sigh. "His wounds got badly infected and the infection has spread. And as it wasn't treated early enough…"

Danny's heart sank. He knew exactly where Junior was going with this. He shook his head, regretting the movement immediately. A sharp pain erupted inside his skull and traveled down his spine. He did his best to ride it out and focus.

Infection. Of course. With all the open wounds on Steve's body and filthy surroundings, it was hardly a surprise. But it didn't make it any easier to accept.

"The last time Pete checked, his temperature was 105.2, and his blood pressure way under normal."

Danny's gaze shifted to his best friend. He studied every bruise, every scrape and cut he could see on his sweaty and way too pale skin. Steve's chest was rising and falling, but the intervals were too short, rapid.

"How… How bad?" He asked, pretty sure he'd known the answer already.

"It's bad, Danny." Junior's eyes locked with Danny's. "Really bad."

Danny's stomach shrank at Junior's words. He didn't need a medical degree to take a good guess of what exactly was wrong with the untreated infection. He didn't need it to know how much pain Steve must've been in. He didn't need it to know this could be avoided if he'd just found him a little bit earlier. And he didn't need it to know his friend's chances of survival were no more than fifty to sixty percent by now.

"Sepsis?" he whispered and a cold shiver run down his spine as he said it out loud.

Junior nodded, frowning. "Yeah. The fluids and meds don't seem to work so far. It's just getting worse."

That made Danny's blood run cold. He knew it was crucial to treat sepsis in its early stages before it progressed and became a septic shock. But with the treatment not working, it didn't look good.

"You don't look good," Junior said. "Get some rest, Danny. You both need it now."

His eyelids were heavy and he struggled not to close them, but how was he supposed to rest knowing his best friend might still die? He shook his head.

"I know you're worried about him. I want him to get better too. But it won't do him any good if you're dead on your feet."

Junior was right, but Danny didn't care about sleep right now. There were more important things to do. "I need to speak to the team," he said.

Junior raised an eyebrow. "I can do that, you should rest."

"No. No, you don't understand," Danny protested. "I know how to finish what Steve had started. He said we need to hurry. I… I think I know why."

His younger colleague met his gaze. "Okay, we'll call them. But then you get some sleep. Deal?"

"Fine."

Junior dialed someone's number on his phone and let it ring. He turned on the video call as he moved his chair closer to Danny.

"Junes!" Danny heard Tani's voice. "I was beginning to be worried. Are you all right? How did it go? Did you find them?"

"Hey." Junior flashed her a smile and angled the phone so she could see Danny too.

"Oh, God. Danny, are you okay? I was so worried when Junior told me what had happened."

"We're all right, Tani," Danny said, lifting himself up into sitting position, biting through the pain the movement had caused. "I can't say the same about Steve, though."

"So you found him." She lifted an eyebrow. "Is he… Is he alive?"

Junior nodded, but the smile was gone from his face, replaced by angry expression. "Yeah. But he's not doing great. That bastard had him tortured almost to death. He was so weak and dehydrated that if we had found him a few hours later, he wouldn't have made it to the hospital."

Danny clenched his fists with the thoughts as anger rushed through him too, but he had to focus now. There was still too much at stake. "Tani, are others with you?" he asked.

She nodded and knocked on the glass door in Lou's office to call everyone. "Oh and I've got good news," she said. "We arrested the guy that killed Sabrina Lawson. Blake Hudson. He won't speak, but we don't really need him to, we've got enough evidence to send him behind the bars."

That was indeed great news. "Well done," Danny said. "What about the guys who attacked me? Did any of them speak?"

"No, but from what we know, I don't think they're working for Khalfani. There must be someone else."

Maybe the guy Steve had mentioned, Danny thought. They waited a couple of seconds for Quinn, Lou, and Adam to join the call.

"Good to see you guys in one piece," Quinn said.

"How are you doing? Did you find Steve?" Lou asked.

Danny sighed. He was in no mood to explain everything right now. "Tani will tell you later," he said. "I need you all to listen now."

They all stared at him in silence.

"I need someone to go to my place. Check the second drawer from the top in my living room."

"What are we looking for?" Adam asked.

"I don't know for sure. Probably a flash drive, or a memory card. Something Steve must've hidden there when he was in Hawaii."

"Do you think there is a video from the plantations on it?" Lou asked.

Danny nodded, grateful Junior had updated them on this part at least. "I think so, yes. There will be a password for sure. Try one-seven-five-one-zero-six-six-seven-five-two." He hoped he remembered it right.

"But what do you want us to do with that?" Tani said. "I mean, even with the proof of what's going on we can't really do much from here, can we? The US doesn't have any authority over there."

She was right. But there was something else they could do. "Remember the photo Steve sent me?" He didn't wait for an answer, of course they did. "It was taken in Switzerland."

"A home of cheese and chocolate," Quinn chimed in, his eyes widened with realization.

"Exactly." Danny nodded, glad they were finally able to put the pieces of the puzzle together. "On that photo, Steve was holding the newspaper. Back then I only thought it was to let me know the date of the photo was taken, but it was more. He tried to tell me what this was about." And he was too focused on something else to notice. A pang of guilt rushed over him once again. "The front page was all about merging two big chocolate companies. Can you check it out? If the owner of any of those is behind this, it will be impossible to stop them from using those kids for their profit once they sign it. They'll just find someone else here willing to work with them and they might double the number of child slaves after that. We can't let that happen."

"Okay, I'll try to find out as much as possible about that." Tani began to type something on the smart table immediately.

"Steve gave me a name. Simon Dietrich. I don't know who he is, but I suspect he might have to do something with the merger."

"On it," Tani said and in a couple of seconds, she got something. "Simon Dietrich is the owner of one of those companies. Dietrich Chocolate. He is signing the merger with Roederer Chocolate in Bern tomorrow. It's all over the Swiss news."

"So, where are you going with this, Danny? We don't have jurisdiction in Switzerland either," Lou said.

"No, we don't. But we can hand the evidence to the authorities there. Contact Interpol and find out who exactly to contact in Switzerland. Give them all the evidence we have and try to stop the merger from happening."

"What if they won't listen?" Adam asked. "Or if we're late? It might take longer than we have to arrange everything through Interpol and Swiss authorities.

Danny couldn't help it as his lips curved into a slight smile. "Oh, they will listen," he said. "And not only the police. Everybody needs to know." If he was right about what Steve had planned, it was a brilliant idea. The most sensible thing to stop the kids from being kidnapped and abused was to get rid of the biggest reason behind the whole idea - the big chocolate players. To hit them where it hurts the most - their wallet. He couldn't go and take care of it now. It would mean leaving Steve and that wasn't going to happen. But the others could and he would explain to them how.

"Who's up for a trip to Switzerland?"

* * *

Simon Dietrich was panicking. He hadn't heard from Blake. He'd already rung him, but not once was his called returned. The same went for Khalfani. That idiot hasn't updated him since Dietrich's men delivered him McGarrett. All he said was it's been taken care of. But he'd said it the last time too. Thanks to that, now he had to be the one to clean Khalfani's mess to not have them exposed. And now that piece of shit doesn't even bother to answer his calls.

After they've managed to get McGarrett, he'd sent Blake to make sure Williams and none of his friends would be a problem anymore. But that idiot couldn't even find the Detective and Dietrich haven't heard from him since yesterday morning.

He was losing his patience with both, Khalfani and Blake.

He lit a cigar and dialed Blake's number again. It went straight to voicemail. This time, he was so incensed, he left a message.

"Where the hell are you?" I want an update on the Williams situation, and I want it now! Have you disposed of the problem yet?" he barked out, anger overriding his sense of caution at not mentioning names and deeds over the phone. The merger was happening tomorrow, and he didn't need any surprises coming out of the woodwork before then. "Call me back!"

His thumb jabbed the "off" button and he kicked his desk bin, sending it hurtling across the room. Then he sat into his chair, staring at the giant flat-screen TV, where presenters were talking excitedly about the merger of Dietrich and Roederer, how much money the deal was worth, and how their shares had been going through the roof since the plans had been announced.

He swallowed hard and loosened his shirt collar, a vein throbbing in his temple.

* * *

Lou was on his way to the airport along with others when he had Julien Cancino, the head of Swiss Federal Police, on the line. He still couldn't believe what they'd found in Danny's house. The flash drive with the video processed into the short documentary showing what'd been going on at the plantations and the secret conversation records of Iwu and Dietrich.

He's been explaining to the officer what had been going on from the beginning. How this all was about cocoa.

"Cocoa?" Cancino asked in disbelief.

"Yes. Cocoa beans and the end product - chocolate."

"Did you just say chocolate?" Cancino repeated incredulously.

Lou confirmed it and told him thirty-five percent of the world's cocoa beans come from small farms in West Africa. That their beans were found in nearly every bar of chocolate produced, and the global market for chocolate and cocoa products was worth hundreds of billions of pounds a year. "That's a hell of a lot of profit to protect."

Cancino was still a bit skeptical.

"The government is in complete control of the cocoa plantations and international distribution of cocoa beans," Lou carried on. "They set the prices they give to the farmers, which are barely enough to survive on, and they demand high taxes from them. Cocoa is the only export and industry in the country, and all the money ends up in the hands of corrupt government officials."

"What does it have to do with us?" Cancino asked impatiently.

"A little patience here, that's what I'm trying to explain," Lou said and continued. "Anyway, Khalfani Iwu was in charge of the rebels. He wanted to overthrow the president in a coup and take over distribution for the cocoa and make big fat profits to line his own pockets. But he knew he needed the people on his side, so he cooked up a scheme with the cocoa farmers because there are hundreds of small plantations out there. He offered them something to sweeten things so they'd give him their support for his eventual coup."

"Offered them what?"

"Child slaves."

"Child slaves?" Cancino gasped.

"Yes."

"So, let me get this straight," Cancino said. "Khalfani Iwu is… was involved in a coup to overthrow the government and in arranging the massacres of villages and the kidnapping of children for slavery in the cocoa plantations?" Lou could hear the disgust in Cancino's voice.

"Yes. But he wasn't working alone," Lou said. "As well as video footage Commander McGarrett took of the inhumane and dangerous condition these children are kept in on plantations over there, we have audio footage. Secret conversations between Khalfani Iwu and Simon Dietrich, the owner of Dietrich Chocolate – an international chocolate company based in Zurich, with offices all over the world. He was supporting Iwu's regime and giving him money to buy arms, in exchange for a deal to keep the cocoa supply costs low. Dietrich was fully aware of the child slaves on the plantations that supplied him with cocoa."

Lou told them how Dietrich was due to sign a merger the next day with Roederer, and if it got out he was directly involved in supporting Iwu's actions and the use of child slaves, the merger would be called off and the public outcry would have a massive effect on his business.

He told Cancino about their plan - Steve's plan - and he was glad the Swiss officer agreed to get the local police involved. Now there was the last thing to do - get to Bern before it was too late.

He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping Steve will be here to witness their achievement. That he will awake to the good news, so they could tell him it was all over and what he'd done was worth it. That thanks to him and his friends, hundreds of the kids can be freed and there will be no more slaves taken to the cocoa farms. At least not for a long time.

"Damn you and your hero syndrome, McGarrett." He said out loud, staring out of the car window, holding back the tears.

From all his heart he hoped they won't lose him again. Because he knew it would mean he'd lose not one, but two of his closest friends this time.


	17. Chapter 17

His brain throbbing with thoughts, Danny waited until he was sure Junior was gone before he ripped the needle out of his arm, grimacing in pain as he did so. He slid the feet off the bed as he sat down and waited for his head to stop spinning.

Looking around, he noticed the small "room" they were in was just a part of the bigger tent, divided from the rest by textile curtains. The doorway was just a thin gap where those curtains met. Besides two beds, two standing lamps, an old cabinet with some medical supplies and a chair Junior had used, the room was almost empty. It was extremely basic. Nothing like he was used to back home.

Stifling a yawn, he suppressed the pain in his head and back and did his best to keep his tired eyes open. He promised Junior he'd get some sleep, but how could he? After a year without his best friend, out of which ten months he'd thought Steve was dead, his friend was right here, alive and breathing, but in a critical condition. The only place he wanted to be at right now was by his side.

Pushing aside the exhaustion he got to his feet slowly and moved to Steve, who lay on his side, his torso bare just like Danny's, to prevent the clothing rubbing against the wounds. He pulled the chair closer and sat next to the bed, his heart breaking at the bruises on Steve's face, at his bandaged wrists, at the wounds marring his back. The deepest ones were closed by medical tape, but most of them weren't covered. There was an IV attached to his arm that provided him much needed fluids and antibiotics.

Danny reached out his hand and gently placed it on top of Steve's. He gave no reaction at all to Danny's touch. "Hey," he said, his voice breaking.

Nothing at all from Steve.

He rubbed the palm of his free hand against his eyes, trying to prevent the tears that began to form.

"You're going to be okay," Danny said with a wry smile, desperately hoping it wasn't a lie. The idea of losing his best friend again made him sick.

Still nothing.

Danny hung his head and sighed, then took back his hand and leaned back in his chair. He watched his friend with pain in his heart. Steve was thinner than he remembered him, his hair longer and a beard covered his bruised face. His swollen eyes and cheeks made it even harder to recognize the man Danny had known for years.

It's been over a year since Steve'd left Hawaii and although it was hard for Danny to pretend he didn't mind, he kept going, knowing it won't be forever and Steve would come home soon. And it worked. Until he'd received that letter from the same bastard who'd done this to his best friend. The man who'd taken his brother from him for so long. The man who'd tried to kill him and made him run and hide from the world for ten long months.

During those months, there were many times Danny imagined seeing Steve again. Many times he'd imagined their long conversations over a beer, watching the sunset at Steve's beach. Many times he'd hoped it was just a bad dream and Steve would show up behind the wheel of his car to annoy the crap out of him. All this time he'd known it wasn't going to happen and yet somehow, Steve was back. But why was the universe so cruel that it'd give him his friend back just to rip them apart again?

Anger surged through him for what had been done to him, to them. And he'd felt a slight relief that the man responsible was dead. That he'd put a bullet right through his forehead. But it didn't make it feel any better. It didn't change the fact Steve was on the brink of death.

He shuffled closer to the bed, rested the elbows on the edge and buried his face into his palms, silently wishing Steve would be all right, that he would come back to him.

The minutes and hours began to bleed into one another, passing slowly and quietly. Danny didn't realize during that time he'd fallen asleep, with his head rested on the side of Steve's bed, using his own forearms as a pillow. He woke from his restless sleep hours later and wondered why nobody had woken him up. Surely a nurse or one of the doctors - either Pete or his colleague Jenny - came to check on them meanwhile.

A shuffle next to him made him lift his head. He saw a twitch on Steve's face and heard a whimpering sound coming from his lips.

"Steve?" he said. Steve's eyelids flickered but didn't open. "Buddy." He put his hand onto Steve's and squeezed and was sure he felt a tiny squeeze back in return.

"Can you hear me?"

Steve made no attempt to respond in words, but Danny was sure he was stirring.

"You're okay," Danny said. "It's over now."

Another stir. Danny placed the back of the free hand on Steve's sweaty cheek and frowned. He'd swear Steve was even hotter than the last time he'd checked.

His forehead creased with worry as he studied his friend for the hundredth time. All the cuts and bruises on his head and body, the futile attempts to open his eyes, sweat forming on his forehead. He was still far from okay and Danny knew it.

Before long, Steve's eyelids stopped fluttering and his body went still again.

He leaned back in his chair, watching his friend as hours kept blending into each other. Exhaustion taking over again, he closed his eyes and fell asleep in the chair once again.

"D'nny?"

The sound of his name broke through the silence like a split in a windshield. He felt instantly relieved by hearing that faint voice. He sprang his eyes open and shuffled closer to his friend.

"Hey." Danny couldn't help but smile at Steve, whose eyes fluttered open with what seemed a great effort.

A prickle of sweat ran down Steve's temple and a pained whimper escaped his throat. "D'nno." Steve's trembling voice was barely audible.

"I'm here, babe." Danny took Steve's hand and gave it a light squeeze. "I'm here. You're all right." This lie again.

Steve's eyes stared at Danny, yet it seemed he looked past him, unable to acknowledge his presence. Steve shook his head and grimaced in pain as he did so. "No," he whispered. "S-stop. Please."

What was Steve talking about? "Stop what? Huh?" he asked, but got no answer to that, other than a weak whimper. "Talk to me, Steve. Stop what?"

"Can't tell him." Steve struggled to get the words out, his voice was raspy and dry. "S-sorry."

Danny's heart broke into halves. Did Steve think they were still locked up in that cell? Did he not know? Did he not remember they made it out of there?

"It's okay, buddy. You're safe. You're at the hospital."

Steve's eyes fluttered close, but he continued stirring, making pained sounds as more droplets of sweat formed on his ashen skin.

His hand shaking, eyes filled with sorrow, Danny brushed the hair from Steve's cheek. He was burning with fever. Danny hung his head in despair. He would have to wait for the nurse to confirm, but he knew it'll be higher than the last time.

"Please." Another whisper, another crack on Danny's heart with Steve's pleading voice. "Not him. Please don't hurt him." Steve's eyes remained closed as he mumbled his pleas.

Danny gave his hand another squeeze, unsure of what to do to help his friend. Watching the best friend, a brother being tortured leaves marks on anyone's soul, no matter how strong that person is. He knew exactly where Steve's confused mind had taken him and he was certain it'd take him there again and again, haunt him in his sleep for months, if not years. Just like the other way around, Danny was sure.

"I'm okay, Steve. You hear me? We both are. It's over. We're safe." Danny's reassurance did nothing to calm Steve down.

Steve kept stirring in the bed, his body covered in sweat, his face ashen as Danny brushed his damp hair from his eyes again.

After a few minutes, his friend's shuffling almost stopped, and he didn't try to talk anymore as the energy was slowly drained from him. It looked like he was in some kind of restless sleep, but Danny knew that wasn't the case. He was awake, confused and in pain. And there was nothing Danny could do to stop it. He couldn't remember when was the last time he'd felt this helpless.

"How are my two favorite patients?" He heard the nurse's voice behind his back. He hadn't noticed her coming in. It was the same woman who checked on him and Steve since they've arrived. Riley.

Danny looked up at the smiling woman but wasn't able to smile back. "Um. Steve… He…" Danny struggled to find the words. "He's awake, but I don't think he is lucid enough to know where he is." Or to know his best friend is by his side, he thought.

Riley nodded, giving him a wry smile. "Confusion is normal in his condition. Not that it's any easier to watch your loved ones suffer knowing that." She strolled closer, ready to check Steve's blood pressure and temperature.

"I don't know how to help him," Danny admitted, his voice defeated, as he watched the nurse doing her job.

"Just do what you're doing," she said without looking at him. "Talk to him. Let him know you're here for him when he comes around. There is only so much we can do now. If the antibiotics won't start working soon, we'll try to switch them." She turned around, her brow creased by worry.

Danny stared at her, a silent question hanging in the air as she kept frowning at the digital thermometer in her hands.

"106.2," she announced, the disappointment in her voice obvious. "And his blood pressure dropped again. That shouldn't happen with the vasopressors we gave him. I have to speak to Pete and Jenny."

Danny's heart sank and a sick feeling of dread clenched his stomach tight. He'd been right, it was worse than last time they'd checked. And with every hour, Steve's chances to survive were lower. He locked his gaze on Steve, who's been shivering under the thin blanket, stirring like he was having a nightmare. Danny brushed his fingers through his blonde hair and let the despair creep into his mind. Steve had to get better. He just had to. Danny didn't want to live in a word without him any longer.

"How about you?"

"Huh?" Danny snapped back from his thoughts.

"You only answered half a question," Riley did her best to smile. "How do you feel?"

On the verge of a breakdown would be the correct answer. "I guess the painkillers are doing its job," Danny said, forcing a faint smile back. He was still sore and his moves sluggish, but the worst pain was numbed by the medication Pete had made him to take.

He was grateful for that, especially due to the lacerations on his back. Twenty of those, he'd been told. Nothing compared to Steve's back, completely torn apart, covered in cuts one across another, too many to count. But still, the pain was immense, like nothing he'd endured before. His heart ached with the image of what Steve must've been through for days. How much pain and desperation he must've felt at the hands of Khalfani. The very thought sickened him.

"Can I have a look?" Surprise at hearing Riley's voice made him realize he'd zoned out again. He met her big, hazel eyes and nodded.

He let her inspect his back and hissed as her soft hand touched around his wounds carefully.

"Sorry," she said and continued the examination. "Good. It's healing well. But some of those will stay."

Danny knew that. He could feel some of the lashes dug deep enough to leave a scar for the rest of his life. A not so subtle remainder of his time in Africa. But right now, that didn't matter. The only thing he cared about was his best friend's life.

Another hour had passed after she'd left them alone, another thousand thoughts had run through his mind as the images of Steve's suffering rushed through his head. His heart jumped when a voice sounded behind him.

"Hey."

Danny turned his head. It was Pete. He forced a smile, but it never reached his eyes.

"You should be in a bed," Pete said. "You need to rest."

"I'm okay here," Danny protested. "The chair is comfy."

Pete didn't say anything to that, he just nodded in defeat. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

"I'm fi-" The lie died on his lips. He glanced over Steve, his heart aching. He shook his head, unable to find the words to express the unbearable emotional pain and guilt tearing through him.

Pete's gaze shifted between Steve and Danny, as though he understood without any explanation.

"This is my fault, you know?" Danny croaked.

Pete strolled closer, staring at Danny in disbelief. "Not according to what Junior has told me," he said.

Danny shook his head. Maybe Junior had told him about the man behind this, about the kids, about Steve's and Danny's ordeal and their captor's death. But Pete had no idea what had happened back in Hawaii. How he allowed those people to use him to lure Steve out.

He didn't say anything for what felt like forever, his mind whirring with thoughts.

"Ten months," he broke the uneasy silence eventually, unable to bottle up his emotions for any longer. "For ten months I've been trying to block out the grief of losing him and I haven't been able to do so. And then he managed to send me a message. A proof he was alive."

Pete lowered his gaze, listening without a word. For some weird reason, it felt easier to speak to a complete stranger than his own ohana. Now when Steve was back and alive, it all came crashing on him, but after months of denying and refusing to speak to any of them about Steve, he felt more comfortable speaking to a man he'd only known from Steve's talking.

"You know, I didn't believe it at first, but deep inside I… I just knew," Danny kept going. "I knew he was somewhere out there. He risked a lot by reaching out to me because he needed my help. He trusted me to help him. And what have I done instead?"

"But you did help him." Pete rested his hand on Danny's shoulder. "Not only you've uncovered the truth. You found him and brought him here, didn't you? You risked your life to save him. He wouldn't be here without you."

"Exactly." Danny blinked away the tears. "He wouldn't be here. They got to him thanks to me. And not only him. The same with Sabrina - her death was my fault too. They killed her because they saw her talking to me. If I just were more careful, she would be still alive and Steve wouldn't be fighting for his life here."

"Look," Pete said. "If I had a friend who traveled half of the world just to find me if I were in trouble, I'd be the happiest person in the world." He held Danny's gaze. "I don't know you. But I've known Steve for a while now. The way he talked about you… It made me wish for a friendship like yours. Just the fact that you're still here is more than most of the people would do. Let alone walking into a lion's den to save someone else's life."

Danny didn't say anything. Of course he was still here. Where else would he be?

"It's not your fault they've found him. You've done everything in your power to bring him home, didn't you?"

Danny kept his mouth shut, not listening to Pete's reasoning, his brain whirring with what if-s. What if he was more careful about asking questions about Steve's plane crash? What if he didn't believe the story about Steve's death and looked for him, instead of bathing in self-pity and anger for ten months? What if he actually did what Steve asked him to do in that message and didn't tell anyone about it? What if…?

"The people behind this are obviously big players." Pete's voice brought his mind back to the present. "And you can't protect everyone. They killed Sabrina because she'd known what Steve had known. They would've done it anyway. And Junior said the rebels had found the plane. They would've hunted Steve down to keep the truth hidden anyway. What happened to them is none of your fault, Danny."

He shrugged, not entirely convinced. He shifted his gaze back to his friend, raw pain and guilt written all over his eyes.

"Look, I can't promise anything," Pete said. "But don't lose hope, Danny. He's still alive and I'll do everything I can to keep it that way."

But what if that wasn't enough?

"Let me check him out. Return to the bed and get some sleep."

"No. I'm not tired." That was another lie.

Pete released a frustrated sigh, obviously not buying it. "Okay. Then have a cup of coffee or tea, you already know where to find it. Just take it easy. I'll call you when I'm done."

Danny nodded and stood up reluctantly. He gave Steve one more look, his heart cracking with the painful picture, and walked outside, blinking away the tears that welled in his eyes.

"Danny? You okay?"

Junior's voice made him lift his head as he walked out of the tent. He stood outside and seemed to be lost in his thoughts just as much as Danny. He wanted to lie, to say he was fine. But Junior wouldn't buy it anyway. "No," he said eventually, voice catching in his throat.

"Something new?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. Pete's with him now."

"He's strong, Danny. He'll make it through."

Danny desperately wanted him to be right. But was he? How many times can you avoid death? How much can a human being withstand and keep standing? Steve had more than a fair share of physical and emotional suffering in his life. Completely lost, he'd run away, searching for whatever he'd thought would bring him happiness. And this is what he got instead. If Danny knew what would happen, he'd have never let him go.

"You wanna talk?"

Danny opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his lips. What was there to say? Steve could die. This time for real. And it was his fault. "No," he said after a few moments.

"Okay." Junior gave him a sad smile. "I'm here if you change your mind."

"Thanks."

Danny wasn't ready to talk about what had happened, let alone what might happen next. But there was something he wanted to ask. He met Junior's gaze. "How did you find us? Did you know they've been keeping Steve there too?"

"That's a long story I'll tell you later," Junior said. "To sum it up, Issa showed up and saved our ass at the plantation and helped me get Modou out of that place."

Modou. That must've been the boy's name.

"He said where they'd take you and he knew we were here for Steve. Majid informed them about Steve being held at the compound, but Issa nor Oumar really believed he'd be still alive after days with that bastard and his rebel army."

"How did they know we're here? I mean, we tried not to let anyone know."

"Issa said they've got eyes at the airport."

Danny's mind flashed back to the young woman at the airport counter. That was the only explanation. "But why would they help us?"

"Because they worked with Steve and Adama. And wait until I tell you where Issa took me and Modou."

Danny wanted to ask more, but Junior's phone vibrated. He took it out and stared at the screen. "I just got the video from Tani. The one they found on a flash drive in your drawer. You up to watching it with me?"

The last thing he needed was to see more cruelty of this world right now, but on the other side, it would occupy his mind and he wanted to know what Steve'd found out before all this went south.

"Sure."

They headed to the smaller tent to sit at the table and Junior asked Mariam, who was extremely grateful for them getting rid of Khalfani, to make coffee for both of them. She flashed him a genuine smile and left to prepare it.

Danny slumped into the chair, his heart aching and mind numb, and waited for Junior to sit next to him, drop the coffee on the table and hold the phone in front of both of them.

"Ready?" Junior asked.

"Ready," Danny said, but he couldn't be more wrong. Nothing could prepare him for he saw after Junior's thumb had hit the "play" icon.

* * *

It was just past ten am when Lou, Tani, Quinn and Adam stepped into the foyer of the luxurious and world-renowned Grande Hotel. There were signs pointing to a set of doors on our right for the international chocolate exhibition being held in their huge exhibition centre. In a few hours, Dietrich and Roederer would be signing a merger at a podium on centre stage in front of a huge audience of spectators and press.

They walked through the first part of the exhibition, which was an elaborate set, decked out like the African bush. There were cocoa trees and pods scattered on the ground beneath them. A pathway led them into another section, showing the history of chocolate production with old photos of plantations and tools.

The team barely broke their stride as they meandered through the next area, which displayed famous bars of chocolate and rivers of liquid chocolate flowing into a rock pool. Two female members of staff dressed in traditional African costumes handed out free samples to people. Parents and children jostled to get to the sweet treats, hands gripping complimentary bars with excited glee.

Lou thought about the children on the plantations. Children whose back-breaking, dangerous work and incarceration fed this industry. Children who had never even tasted a chocolate bar in their lives. And he thought about the privileged western world, who consumed the luxury item with no idea what bloodshed really happened in secret to produce it. The sight and smell of the chocolate turned Lou's stomach.

When they reached the main reception area, Lou turned to Quinn and Adam. "Do you have what you need?" he asked while Tani looked at her watch.

"Yes," Adam said.

"Then go get ready. I and Tani will talk to the police officers one more time before we rock this party."

* * *

Danny sat in stunned and sickening silence as he and Junior watched the footage on the screen. Steve and Adama had visited many plantations and videoed the brutal and hazardous conditions of the child slaves, working with machetes, carrying heavy loads, handling toxic pesticides with no protection, their injuries and scars from their dangerous work. The suffocating huts where they slept twenty or more to a tin shack.

Interpreting through Adama, Steve questioned the children they had rescued, who bravely and sadly told of horrific experiences no one should ever have to suffer – some of whom had been kidnapped from the villages which had been massacred by the rebels, some – who had been tricked by traffickers, believing they would be getting a real job for real pay. One young boy told how he was one of the children who had been lured away by traffickers without their parents' knowledge and sold to the cocoa farmers.

They described the beatings they'd received, told witness accounts of the deaths of their fellow slaves, either through injury or at the hands of both the farmers and the rebel guards. They told of their stolen lives and despair.

Then came the damning secret recordings of conversations between Khalfani Iwu and Simon Dietrich, which documented Iwu's plans for a coup, and Dietrich's financial and moral support to him so he could keep the government sweet because of his plans for world domination in the chocolate sector. The global demand for cocoa beans already outweighed supply and nothing would stop him from getting his hands on them. Given all the exchanges between them by phone, it was clear Dietrich not only condoned the trafficking and use of child slaves, but he was also involved in financing the rebels to supply arms to them so they would facilitate Iwu's take over of the country. There was also undisputed evidence that Dietrich was involved in the massacring of villages, war crimes, a conspiracy that spanned the globe, and mass murder.

When the film ended, they both sat in respectful silence for a moment. Danny's face had drained of color. His eyes watered with the thought of all those kids and their words.

"Guys?"

Danny didn't notice Pete walking inside. He turned around and one look at his face made his stomach clench tight. The sadness in the doctor's eyes said it all.

"Steve?" Danny whispered, his voice trembling.

Pete nodded. "We need to talk."


	18. Chapter 18

Danny sat in silence, his head hung down, as he listened to a steady beeping of the monitor next to Steve's bed, Pete's words replaying in his weary mind for the past five hours.

_"His temperature went up again and his blood pressure dropped. He isn't responding to the antibiotics nor the vasopressors which is certainly a huge point of concern. I'm changing his meds straight away, but I'll be honest with you, Danny. It's not looking good. In his condition, it might not make any difference. Unless we manage to get the fever and blood pressure under control really soon, his organs will start to fail."_

_"How… How soon are we talking about?"_

_"Hours."_

_"Hours?"_

_"I'd say next twenty-four hours will decide."_

The time was running out fast and so far there was no improvement whatsoever. Danny's eyes glazed with a glossy layer of tears as he thought about it over and over again. It couldn't be right. There had do be something, anything, they could do to make Steve better.

As he blinked, the tears dripped from his eyelids and slid down his cheeks. He brushed the back of his hand over his face, scrubbing the tears away.

"Danno?" Steve's voice was a mere whisper.

He lifted his head, meeting Steve's gaze. The pain etched in Steve's eyes was breaking his heart.

"You 'kay?" Steve asked.

Danny hoped there was no trace of tears on his face anymore, but his red eyes would probably expose him anyway. He curled his lips into a fake smile. "Yeah, I'm all right." It took everything he had not to show that he was on the verge of a breakdown as he watched Steve squirm and struggle to slow down his rapid breathing.

Steve studied him for a moment, desperately trying to keep his eyes open.

"How are you feeling?" Danny knew it was a stupid question. But he'd hoped that maybe… just maybe he'd get an answer that would finally indicate some improvement.

"C-cold," Steve croaked, his lips quivering.

"I'll find you some blanket all right?" Danny squeezed his hand.

Steve fluttered his eyes close without a reply.

"Okay." Danny stood up, his stomach clenched tight. "I'll be right back." He took his hand back and half-turned around when Steve's voice stopped him.

"Don't," Steve sucked in a raspy breath and wrenched his eyes open again. "Don't leave me."

The desperate plea and fear in those blue eyes shattered Danny's heart into a thousand pieces. "I'm not leaving you, buddy. I'd never do that," Danny said, a raw pain etched on his face. "I just don't want you to be cold and I need to find something to cover you up. It'll be a minute at most, all right? I'll be right back."

Steve mumbled something in disagreement, but Danny couldn't make any words out of it.

Danny blocked out Steve's futile protests and headed outside. It didn't take long before he'd returned to his friend with a thicker blanket than the one he'd had.

"I'm here, Steve," he assured his friend as he threw the blanket over Steve and pulled it up, carefully covering his shivering body. "I'm right here."

Steve's eyes were closed and he didn't attempt to open them anymore, but a soft, barely audible murmur escaped his lips. Danny would swear he heard him whisper "I'm sorry," but maybe he'd just imagined it. It frightened him how weak his friend was despite the proper medical treatment and Pete's words made his stomach cramp in fear.

His heart bleeding, Danny sat down and picked up Steve's hand, making sure his friend knew he wasn't going to leave.

"I love you, buddy," Danny whispered, wishing his love was enough to spare Steve from the pain and suffering, enough to save his life. In a heartbeat, he would switch places with Steve if it was possible. But it wasn't. His best friend was fighting for his life and losing this battle. There was nothing Danny could do and it was tearing his heart apart.

As minutes and hours blended into each other, Danny never once left Steve's side, too afraid Steve might be gone by the time he'd come back. He never stopped holding onto his friend's hand, to make sure Steve knew he was there for him. And he never stopped hoping for a miracle.

At that moment, Danny hated and loved Steve so damn much at the same time. Except for his kids, he was the only good thing in his life. Danny had no idea what he'd done to luck out with a friend like Steve, but he knew he didn't deserve him. Not after failing him like this. And it was that twisting feeling in his gut that made him hate Steve - for being one of the only reasons the pieces of him were held together.

Steve was more than a friend, more than a brother to him. They've both lost too much already and shared the thousands of memories, good or bad ones. They shared their joy and pain throughout the years. They understood each other without even saying a word. Like two broken souls forever searching for the happiness that wasn't meant for them. But as long as they were together, they could get through anything. He just wished at least this one thing wouldn't be taken from him. He'd do anything, including giving up his own life for Steve's if that was what it took.

A shuffle in Steve's bed brought him back from his dark thoughts. He lifted his head and looked at his friend.

Steve stared at him with a confused frown as his eyelids parted with what seemed a great effort.

"Danny?"

"Yeah?" Danny held Steve's clouded gaze, holding onto his friend's hand.

"I'm sorry," Steve whispered, his voice pain-filled and weak, a bead of sweat running down his cheek.

"Why would you be sorry?"

Steve's lower lip quivered as words slowly made their way out of his mouth. "For what I've put you through," he said, yet what followed was engulfed in the tremors. "After the crash."

For letting him think his best friend had died? For letting him drown in grief and pain so deep it felt like thousands shards of glass cutting through his chest for ten months? Of course, he was angry, despite the good reason behind Steve's actions. But this wasn't the right time to talk about his hurt feelings.

"Oh, that," Danny forced a smile. "Let's not talk about it now, all right? Don't worry about anything but getting better soon so I can kick your ass for not being around for over a year. Don't think one sorry will get you off the hook. I won't make it that easy for you."

The corners of Steve's lips curled upwards into a slight grin despite the pain visible in his eyes. But the smile vanished quickly. Steve lowered his gaze, as though he was ashamed for what he was about to say. "I'm scared, Danny."

Steve's honest confession felt like a knife right into Danny's broken heart. Steve must've felt his body was shutting down and the fact he'd admitted his fear openly just supported the finality of his words. Danny choked the tears back, refusing to show them to his friend. It was the last thing Steve needed right now.

"It's okay to be scared, buddy," Danny said. "But you'll be all right. You just need more rest and we'll go home soon, all right?" At this point, it was hard to believe his own words, but he desperately needed them to be true and so did Steve.

Steve gave Danny another weak smile, but the look in his eyes said he didn't believe it, yet he appreciated the comforting lie. "Love you," he whispered as their eyes met.

Despite his best effort, Danny's eyes watered. "I love you too."

Steve's eyelids fluttered, and a painful grimace replaced his wry smile.

"Go back to sleep, Steve. You need to rest."

Steve nodded. A movement so weak, it was hard to even notice. "Will you stay?" he croaked.

What was it with Steve being so afraid he'd leave him? Like he'd ever done that in years of their friendship. Of course he'd stay.

"Not going anywhere."

* * *

At quarter to two, Lou and the rest of the team stood next to Julien Cancino, the head of Swiss Federal Police, in the crowded exhibition hall. In front of them was the large stage with a podium in the front centre of it. Behind it was a huge floor-to-ceiling projector screen with the corporate logos of Dietrich and Roederer splashed across it.

The croissant Lou had had earlier threatened to come back up as he stood nervously, waiting for the players to show up and sign the merger documents.

Tani nodded at the rest of them. "They're coming out."

A dignified-looking Simon Dietrich walked up onto the stage, dressed in a very expensive charcoal grey suit with a sky-blue tie. He was in his late fifties, with perfectly styled hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He looked like a kindly granddad, rather than a mass murderer. Behind him was the CEO of Roederer Chocolate, Paul Roederer, who was dressed virtually identical in a well-cut suit, enhanced by trendy glasses frames that almost made him look young and fashionable.

The crowd clapped and cheered as both men stood in front of the podium and smiled beatifically at each other before turning to the audience.

Dietrich lifted a hand to call for silence, used to everyone doing his bidding. "Welcome to the fifteenth annual Zurich Chocolate Festival. I hope you're all enjoying the finest samples." He lifted his hands in the air and surveyed his audience. The press took photos. The crowd roared with glee.

"For the past ninety years, my family has built up Dietrich Chocolate into the largest chocolate producer in the world."

More flashes of cameras. More cheering.

"Today, Dietrich will sign a merger with Roederer." He turned and smiled at his counterpart. "As you know, Roederer is the largest cocoa mass producer in the industry. And today, we are involved in a historical event." He gazed at the crowd, making sure everyone hung on his every word. "An event which will make our company the number one global confectionery producer." He raised his hands again, and the crowd took that as their cue to clap.

"Before we sign the merger documents, let's take a look at some of the innovative history of our companies." Dietrich smiled and turned around to the projection screen behind him.

Everyone was silent, eyes fixed on the screen, the broadcast media busy filming as their promotional advert started. Dietrich and Roederer smiled proudly, watching a montage of clips: Beautiful, lush green scenery of the plantations. Men smiling and laughing as they worked side by side, cutting down ripe pods from the cocoa plants, as if the day's work was nothing but a stroll in the breeze. The production line in their factories where men and women looked similarly ecstatic to work. The Western children devouring their products with glee. African children sitting in a classroom, answering questions from the teacher, and a hospital where mothers and children were being treated, inferring that Dietrich's and Roederer's money had helped fund local improvement projects for the communities.

Then the montage stopped, and the words: And Now for The Truth… flashed up on the screen.

Dietrich frowned, confused, knowing that wasn't part of the footage. He looked at Roederer, who raised his eyebrows, not knowing what was going on. Dietrich stepped to the side of the stage and spoke with a female member of staff dressed in the corporate uniform. She shrugged her shoulders and disappeared into the crowd, presumably to find out what the technical hitch was.

And then the film started again, and Lou watched Dietrich smiling. But it wasn't what he'd been expecting, and the smile slid off his face almost immediately. Dietrich looked beyond the crowd at who was manning the projection equipment, a confused look on his face.

Then Lou's gaze slid back to the screen. To the cocoa plantations, to the emaciated children, to their heartbreaking faces, to close-ups of their injuries, to their stories.

Dietrich and Roederer were dumbfounded for a while, their mouths wide open. Until it hit them what was going on. Then Dietrich pulled himself together, his face a red mask of fury. "Please stop the film!" he called out, waving his hands in the air in the direction of the projector operator who, little did he know, was with Five-0 and the police. "This is a complete fabrication by one of our competitors, trying to slur our name. Please turn it off!"

"This is an outrage!" Roederer blustered with what could only be described as a very guilty look on his face.

Just then, three police officers appeared from behind the screen, dressed in navy combat clothes and armed with handguns in holsters.

"What is going on?" Dietrich demanded as they stepped up on the stage, Steve's documentary still playing out behind him. The crowd was stunned into silence as they watched the damning evidence of Dietrich's deeds. Press video recorders filmed with excitement at the prospect of a huge scoop.

The air of charm had now disappeared, and Dietrich scowled at the officers. "My event has been sabotaged by my competitors. I trust you're going to be taking action against them."

A suited man stepped up on stage and joined his team of police officers. Lou didn't know if he stood purposely next to the microphone at the podium when he told Dietrich he was under arrest for a multitude of crimes, but he probably did. Cancino stepped closer to the stage for a better look.

Lou's mouth stretched wide in a smile as the crowd continued watching with rapt attention, making collective noises of disgust and horror. The media went wild, cameras firing madly, flashing like a firework display.

Cancino leaned in to him, a triumphant smile on his own face. "Well, that couldn't have gone any better, I think. I bet you'll be celebrating tonight."

Lou shook his head, a smile gone from his face. "Not with our friend's life hanging in the air," he said. "It is a great achievement for sure, but there is nothing to celebrate if he dies over this."

"I'm sorry," Cancino gave him a wry smile. "I hope he'll pull through. Give him my thanks when he gets better. We would never find out about this without his work."

"Will do. Thanks for the cooperation." Lou shook his hand.

"My pleasure," Cancino said and disappeared through the crowd of excited onlookers as Dietrich and Roederer were led away in handcuffs.

Adam appeared on Lou's side. "Well, that's what I call a result. So, what's next? Now it's all over?" He looked at Lou.

"It's far from over," Lou said. "But we've done everything we could."

"Well, I'm sorry to be a party pooper," Tani chimed in. "But we've got a flight to catch."

* * *

A hand on his shoulder startled Danny awake, almost making the chair he'd been sitting on to flip over.

"Sorry," Junior said. "I didn't want to scare you."

Danny's eyes shifted from Junior and Pete, standing right next to him, to Steve, who was sleeping, then back to Junior. He ran his fingers across his face and his puffy eyes. "What's going on?"

"Someone would like to talk to you outside," Pete said.

Danny's gaze shifted to his sleeping friend. "I don't want to leave him."

"I need to check on him anyway. And you'll be just a few steps away."

Junior nodded. "Come on, you'll be back in a few minutes."

Danny stood up reluctantly and followed Junior out of the tent, wondering who was waiting out there. Once they reached the place, his jaw dropped in a surprise as Tani approached him and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a gentle, but tight embrace.

"I'm so glad you're all right," she said as she pulled away after a few seconds.

Behind her, Lou, Adam and Quinn stared at him.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"What do you think we're doing here?" Lou said, his tone slightly offended. "We're checking on our boys. We just wanted to make sure you were all right."

When Junior told him the team and the police managed to stop the merger and that they're on the plane, he thought they'd been on a plane to Hawaii, not on their way here. He couldn't hide the surprise, knowing they'd travel this far just to be with them in the time of need. He wasn't even sure he deserved such people around him after what he'd caused to his best friend.

"How are you feeling, Danny?" Quinn asked.

Sore. Angry. Hopeless. Exhausted. Like the world was turning his back on himself.

"Fine," he replied. "But I'm adding this country on my list of the places not to visit again."

"You've got such a list?" Adam pulled a grin.

"Yeah, that and the list of activities never to try again. Like camping. Oh and sailing and fishing too. Piloting a plane. Or skydiving. Actually, the most are on both of those lists thanks to years spent by Steve's side." He did his best to crack a smile but failed miserably.

"Add eating chocolate on my not-to-do list," Tani said.

Danny nodded, barely listening, wondering what Pete's latest observation will bring once he walks out of Steve's room.

"How is he?" Lou's eyes mirrored the concern of his own.

What was he supposed to say? Pete said they only had hours before there will be no way back for Steve, yet his friend's condition didn't seem to improve a bit since then. It didn't get worse though, which was at least some good news but still, not enough to stop him from dying.

"He's hanging there. For now. This morning he had a good moment. He was awake and relatively lucid, he even said a couple of words that actually made sense." Danny didn't want to think about what the words were because they felt so final, as though Steve had accepted this was the end for him and wanted to use those precious minutes of being able to think to apologize to Danny for putting him through hell and tell him he loved him one more time. "But he, uh….he…" Danny's voice broke as he thought about Pete's words again. He sucked in a deep breath before he kept going. "The doc said unless they get it under control in the next couple of hours, we might lose him. He's with Steve right now."

He tried to ignore the grim expressions of his colleagues. The pity for him in their eyes. He decided to change the topic before they tried to make him feel better. "So, uh… How did it go in Switzerland?"

Lou was the first one to pick up on the sudden change of topic and judging by the look on his face - on the reason behind it.

"Smooth action. I'm not sure if Roederer was involved as well, but we'll leave it up to the authorities to decide. As for Dietrich - child slavery, a corrupt corporation, a political coup, an international cover-up, a conspiracy to murder - I'm sure as hell that man won't see the sunshine for the rest of his life."

"We've also pulled some very interesting voicemail messages from Blake Hudson's phone, which basically order the hit on you, Danny," Quinn added. "The number has been matched to an unregistered phone, so no trace on ownership details, but I'm betting voice analysis will prove it's Dietrich's."

"What about the men who attacked me and abducted Steve?"

"Dietrich's people," Adam said. "I'm pretty sure they were cleaning Khalfani's mess after finding out Steve was alive and after his unsuccessful attempt to abduct Mary."

Just the thought of that sick bastard made Danny's blood boil in his veins. He'd never understand what people were capable of just because of their greed. Rich people who just wanted to be richer for no reason. They never had enough.

Money. The reason why hundreds of kids were ripped away from their families, many of them killed during the hell that followed, the reason why Adama and Sabrina were dead, the reason Steve was hiding for months, tortured to protect a couple of those luckier kids they managed to save, the reason he was on the brink of death. He gritted his teeth as rage rushed through him.

"Good job," he said at the same time Pete showed up with some papers in his hand.

As Pete strolled toward them, the neutral expression on his face was driving Danny crazy. What he was about to tell them had the power to change Danny's life forever either way. How could he show nothing?

"So?" he asked impatiently.

"Good news," Pete said, finally stretching a smile over his face. "His temperature dropped and although still high, it's way better than it was. The same goes for his breathing rate and blood pressure."

The relief that washed over him felt like a boulder lifted from his chest. He breathed out through his nose and closed his eyes for a second, his lips curving into the first genuine smile in ten months.

It worked. Steve will live. And at this moment, nothing else mattered.


	19. Chapter 19

_**2 days later** _

Gripping a hot cup of coffee Danny sat down onto the chair beside Steve's bed and watched his friend stir. He leaned backward and breathed in deeply, letting the smell of dark coffee waft around him. He sipped the brew in silence for several minutes, until Steve's eyelids fluttered open.

"That smells great." Steve's voice was hoarse and quiet, but there was a genuine smile on his face.

"Well, it's not exactly my favorite, but it'll do," Danny smiled back at him and set the half-empty cup on the floor. "Did I wake you up?"

"No. I think I've got enough sleep for at least a month now."

Danny nodded, knowing what Steve had meant. He'd spend most of the last five days asleep, as his body fought the infection. It finally got to the point his friend was no longer in danger and he was lucid every time he was awake, but the exhaustion usually took over after a few minutes before he got back to sleep, so there wasn't much time for any long conversations or difficult topics. The only information he was able to give Steve was that this madness was over, that the team had stopped the merger from happening, Khalfani was dead and Dietrich behind the bars.

As expected, the first thing Steve managed to do once lucid enough to have a basic conversation was apologizing to Danny for involving him in this mess and for not being able to help him back in that cell.

The last time Steve was awake he'd answered the question that'd been lingering on Danny's mind for a week now. Why didn't Steve contact him sooner? Why did he let him think he was dead, knowing what pain it'd cause him?

Steve's explanation was pretty simple, yet it made Danny's blood boil every time he thought about it.

_"I didn't have enough evidence back then to prove both Khalfani Iwu's and Simon Dietrich's involvement and take them down," Steve explained. "At first, all I had was footage taken of the slaves at the plantations, which wouldn't have been enough. Khalfani tried to confiscate everything at the airport, but one of his men was working for Adama. When he searched me, he let me keep the phone with the footage on it."_

Danny couldn't believe how lucky Steve was. Had it been someone else to search him, no one might actually find out about all this.

_"Adama smuggled me across the border, and I went into hiding until he could plant in inside man to Khalfani to get the audio evidence against him and Dietrich that would be enough to get them convicted. When I heard about the plane crash, I thought it was better for them to think I was dead for the time being. If they were watching you guys to find out if I'd told you anything, it would be more realistic if they saw a grieving family and friends. And my silence then would ensure your safety."_

Of course Steve'd been trying to protect his loved ones, but Danny didn't like the way of doing it one bit. Every day had been a struggle ever since and he'd been crying his eyes out, drowning in self-pity and hating the world, while Steve stood alone against the dangerous enemy, waiting for the right time to contact him again.

Steve's face crumpled as he looked up at Danny. "I thought I was doing the best to protect you. But when I sent the photo, I didn't realize they'd found the plane wreck that showed I wasn't on it and they'd started looking for me anyway. If I knew, I'd never involve you in this. I wouldn't risk your life and the lives of everyone else. What'd happened to you was my fault."

It took Danny several attempts to make Steve stop apologizing for what had been out of his control, yet he could see the guilt tearing through his friend every time he looked into those blue eyes. Just like now.

"How are you feeling?" Danny asked.

Steve thought about an answer for a moment. "Like ran over by a truck."

Danny appreciated the honesty of his friend. He wouldn't buy Steve's usual 'I am fine' answer anyway. His face was still covered in the tones of yellow and blue along with the healing gashes on his head. The wounds marring his back were still breaking Danny's heart every time he saw them, just like the bandaged wrists reminding him Steve's restraints that'd dug deep into his skin during the days of captivity.

"You?" Steve asked, staring at him with guilt written all over his face.

"Better now," Danny said, curling his lips into a smile. His wounds were still extremely painful and probably would be for quite some time, but he was healing well. What made him feel better though, was the fact Steve was alive and his condition was getting better relatively quickly.

Steve nodded, satisfied with the answer. "How long have I been here?"

"Five days since we've brought you in. But you're doing just fine. You should be out in no time."

Steve frowned at that and remained quiet, staring into the air as though he tried to remember something.

"Steve? You okay?"

Ignoring his question Steve furrowed his brows and kept his mouth shut for a little while longer before he snapped. "I need to call Mary," he pushed his elbows against the bed to lift himself up, but Danny's hand on his chest stopped him.

"Calm down. She and Joanie are both safe in Hawaii. I made sure of that before I came here." Danny held his hand in place until he felt no more resistance from his friend. He'd told Steve about this before, but he'd probably been out of it as he didn't seem to remember that conversation.

Steve relaxed and breathed out a relieved sigh. "He threatened to kill her, you know?" he said. "And when I… uh… when they found out I wasn't dead, I was worried he'd be after her to use her against me."

"Not that he didn't try. That bastard had sent his goons after her." Danny's words widened Steve's eyes instantly. "But you've got a badass sister there, buddy. She's definitely a part of the McGarrett ninja family. She kicked the guy's ass, managed to call me and brought Joan to Hawaii the next day."

Steve didn't say anything, but Danny could see a pang of guilt in his eyes.

"Hey, don't pull this face, okay? They're fine," he said. "Not very happy as I've basically locked them up in a safe house with the police protection, but they're safe."

"Okay. Thanks."

Danny's stomach clenched tight when Steve lowered his gaze. He'd known his friend and the fact he'd blame himself for everything bad that happened to those he loved. That's why he hesitated before he decided it was time to tell Steve the bad news. But he deserved to know and the longer Danny waited, the harder it would be to tell him.

"But, you should know… When you sent me that photo, I went to Sabrina Lawson, asked a few questions." Danny paused as Steve lifted his gaze with a confused frown. "I didn't know back then but I had a tail and later that day she was killed by the same man who'd been following me. Dietrich's man, who is behind the bars by now, just like his boss."

"Sabrina's dead?" The guilt in Steve's eyes was now accompanied by sadness. "I shouldn't have told her about this."

Danny shook his head. "This isn't on you."

"Yes, it is. I contacted her two days before I was due to leave. I wanted her to help me expose them, but she said she couldn't. It was Health International's policy not to get involved in political and social problems in the country. They were purely an aid organization. She said she couldn't risk being kicked out and undoing the good they were doing out here. And I get that."

"She must've suspected your plane crash wasn't accidental then."

"I would imagine so. But she didn't know I was alive. I suppose she thought she was doing the right thing for the organization. But she's paid a high price for it now. So many people have died over this."

Danny leaned forward and clutched Steve's hand. "There is something else, Steve," he said with sadness in his voice. "Adama's dead too." He'd never met the man, but from what he'd heard, he was like another version of his best friend. No wonder the two of them were good friends.

Steve closed his eyes for a brief moment, pain etched all over his face. When he opened them again, his eyes were watering with unshed tears.

"I'm so sorry, buddy. I've heard he was a good man." Danny hesitated, unsure whether to tell Steve how and why Adama had died, but he decided against it unless Steve asked. It would hurt his friend even more. Majid, the same man who'd freed Danny, told him about Adama's short stay at the same place he and Steve were locked in. By the time Majid had found out about the new prisoner, it was already too late for Adama. He was told the leader of their group had been tortured to give away Steve's location, but he'd never said a word. And that cost him his life.

"It makes sense now," Steve said, his voice filled with sorrow. "I thought it was you, but I didn't want to believe it."

"What are you talking about?" Danny raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Khalfani said I'd follow my friend into the grave." Steve closed his eyes for a second with the painful memory and paused. "I saw them attacking you in that park and I didn't know whether you'd made it or not. So I assumed he was talking about you when he'd said that." Steve's glassy eyes met Danny's. "I was afraid that you might be gone."

Danny clutched Steve's hand a bit tighter. He knew all too well how it feels not to know if his best friend was still alive or not. Or to think he was dead. "Nah. They didn't stand a chance," he said, faking a smile. "I got into some trouble later on at the plantation when looking for you. But I'm glad I did."

Steve stared at him as though trying to understand why would Danny say he was glad to get captured, especially after what he'd been through at Khalfani's hands.

"I didn't know where to find you," Danny explained as he took his hand back and leaned back in his chair. "I knew Khalfani was the one responsible for the plane crash and I've discovered why. I knew it must've been him who'd sent people to get you. But I had no idea where he'd taken you. So we started at the plantation. It worked out, kind of. He led me right to you. I would never find you on time had I not been captured that day."

Steve kept glaring at him with a puzzled look on his face, not saying anything.

"What's that look? Huh?"

"Nothing. Just…"

"Just what?"

"You didn't know I'd be here," Steve said. "Yet you risked everything to fly all the way here just to find me."

Danny's heart melted when he looked at the gratitude and love in Steve's eyes. "Of course, you goof. What else was I supposed to do? You've been dead for ten months and then you've sent me proof you were alive. Was I supposed to sit back, drink a beer and chill out? The note said you needed my help so I went and looked for you."

"That wasn't the kind of help I asked for. I just needed someone to help me expose the truth."

Danny shook his head. "You're unbelievable, Steven. A normal person would just say thank you, you know?"

Steve allowed himself a slight grin. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Just don't ever do this to me again, all right?" Danny said. "You have to stop this… this thing of yours. Don't make me come looking for you to the other side of the world ever again." The memories of Steve's previous adventures in North Korea and Afghanistan with a very similar outcome were still vivid in Danny's mind. And he was sure they'll remain there for the rest of his life, reminding him of the fear and uncertainty he'd felt every time.

"I'll try not to," Steve said. "I'm getting too old for this crap." He shifted himself higher up in the bed, grimacing in pain.

"You think?" Danny's lips curled upwards. "Maybe it's time to come home and just chill, man. I'd appreciate the retirement anyway. Two old guys watching sunsets on the beach sounds pretty good to me."

Steve's gaze shifted to the wall behind Danny and something in his look sent a chill down Danny's spine.

"You are coming home with me, aren't you?" Danny asked.

"Danny…" Steve began, but Danny cut him off with a hand gesture. The air in the small room changed. It turned thick and boiled with tension threatening to bubble over.

"Stop. Just stop, okay? You've almost died, Steven. Isn't that enough? What the hell do you want to do this time? Just come home with me. Please."

Steve shook his head. "I appreciate what you've done, but how can I leave knowing it's not over yet?"

"It is over for you, my friend. I'm not letting you get killed all right? This… This will never be completely over, Steve. You know that. It's a worldwide economic problem. We've won this battle, but this is a war that can't be won over a couple of months. There is nothing more you can do and you know it."

"Danny…"

"Look. The rebels have no natural leader now. Someone will take over though, but this isn't your fight anymore, Steve. There is help on the way from the US and Switzerland, the hundreds of kids at the farms will be freed thanks to your work. Your job here is done."

"There is power and money at stake. We've stopped it for now. But it won't stop others from trying again," Steve protested.

"No, it won't. You can't stop the civil war out there, nor you can solve poverty. But for now, just look at how many lives will be saved. The kids can try to find their families again. And those who don't have anyone will be in good hands. Adama's orphanage will be supported internationally so they'll get everything they need to take care of the kids and build more places like that all over the country. You've done everything you could, Steve. It's time to come home."

"I suppose you're right," Steve said after a moment of hesitation.

Danny relaxed a bit. "Good. Now when we're clear about that, there's someone who'd like to see you. You feel up to a visitor or would you like to get some more sleep first?"

"No, I'm good." Steve raised his eyebrow, staring at him. "But I thought the team went back home."

"They did. There is no point for all of us to hang around. Also, this is a makeshift hospital, not a hotel for tourists," Danny said and gestured toward the doorway. "It's someone else. I'll go get him. Wait here."

Steve scoffed. "Not like I can go somewhere, can I?"

Danny's lips curled into a smile as he stood up and headed out of the room. Issa was standing out there, waiting patiently for Danny. He was holding a hand of a small boy, who was looking around as though unsure what was going on and why was he here.

Junior had told him the heartbreaking story of this child, that matched the scars on his limbs. Danny's chest tightened as he scanned through his tiny body. No one should ever suffer this much, let alone a child at the age of his son.

Danny crouched down in front of the boy, grinning at him. "Hey. You must be Jamba." The boy just stared at him without a word. "I'm Danny. I've been told you're a good friend of my friend Steve. Is that right?"

Jamba's big eyes widened when he heard Steve's name. He nodded slowly, squeezing some kind of toy in his hand, pressing it toward his chest.

"What's that?" Danny pointed at the toy. "Can I see it?"

Jamba hesitated, glancing up to Issa, who gave him a reassuring nod. He looked at Danny and outstretched his arm toward him, revealing the object in his hand.

Danny's heart cracked a little when he realized what he'd been looking at. The toy animal in his hand was a seal carved out of wood. "It's beautiful," he said.

"Jamba made it himself," Issa said proudly. "For Steve."

Jamba looked up at Issa, whispering something in a foreign language.

Issa held his gaze and smiled. "Yes, kid. Steve likes the seals."

"I'll tell you what," Danny said to Jamba. "Steve is just over there." He pointed behind him. "But he doesn't know you're here. I wanted to surprise him. How about I take you to him and you can show him what you've made for him? I'm sure he'll love it."

"Jamba see Steve?" The boy asked, not hiding the excitement in his voice.

"Yes, if you want." Danny stood up, watching the kid's face light up. He walked toward the gap in the curtain that made the door leading to Steve's room. "You ready?"

Jamba let go of Issa's hand and rushed past Danny, pushing all the patience aside.

Danny grinned to himself as he stood over the doorway next to Issa and watched Steve's jaw drop when he saw Jamba running over to him.

Jamba threw his arms around Steve's neck and Steve pulled him into a tight hug, obviously savoring every second of it. Danny winced as Jamba accidentally slid his arm down to Steve's hurt back, but Steve didn't even blink, as though the pain hadn't existed at this moment.

Steve whispered something into Jamba's ear and squeezed him tighter as he placed a gentle kiss to the top of the boy's head. Still cradling the tiny child in his arms, Steve lifted his gaze to Danny, tears of joy rushing into his eyes. "Thank you," he choked a whisper, meeting Danny's eyes.

He nodded and flashed him a smile before turning to Issa. "Come on," he said and led the way out. "Let's give them some space. They've got a lot to catch up I guess." Just like he and Steve, but that could wait until they get back home. For now, he was just happy he had his best friend back.

The image of Steve and Jamba reminded him how much he missed his kids. He hasn't seen them for almost two weeks. A cold shiver ran down his spine with the thought of how close he was to not seeing them ever again.

"Can I borrow your phone?" he asked, turning to Issa.

"Of course," Issa replied and passed him the cell phone.

He dialed the number and let it ring. On the third beep, Grace answered the call hesitantly. "Hello?"

The instant joy filled his heart when he heard her voice. "Hi monkey, it's Danno. I just wanted to tell you how much I love you and Charlie. And I miss you both so much."

There were a few seconds of silence on the other side of the line. "Danno? Is everything all right?" she asked with a hint of concern in her voice.

Yes, it was all right now. His kids were happy and well taken care of and his soul brother was alive and by his side. His family was safe, and that was the most important thing in the world. "Yes, everything's fine, monkey. Don't worry. I just couldn't wait till I get home to tell you."

Grace breathed out a relaxed sigh. "Okay. I love you too, Danno. When are you coming back?"

"Soon," he said. "I should be home by the weekend. And I'll bring uncle Steve with me."

"That's great news." She didn't hide the excitement in her voice. "I'll see you both on Friday then? I'll catch the flight on Thursday."

"See you on Friday, monkey."

"Tell uncle Steve I love him."

Danny couldn't help but grin. The relationship between his kids and Steve was just as special as theirs. Both, Charlie and Grace had certainly missed their precious uncle Steve almost as much as he had. It took months after Steve's presumed death to make Charlie stop asking why his superhero uncle couldn't use his powers to bring himself back. He couldn't wait to see his kids' faces light up when they see Steve again.

"You'll tell him yourself. Now go and study, or read a book. Nothing that involves parties or boys."

"Danno…"

He lifted his gaze and caught a glimpse of Pete coming out of one of the rooms. "I gotta go, Gracie. I'll see you at home, all right? Love you."

He ended the call, returned the phone to Issa and called out to get Pete's attention. It was time to ask when he could take his best friend back home.

* * *

_**5 months later** _

"You ready for this?" Danny asked, a big smile stretched on his face.

Steve glanced at him nervously as he stopped by the Camaro in front of his house. "I don't know," he said. "Too late to back out though, isn't it?"

"You'll be just fine. The kid loves you."

That was true. When he'd left to Africa over almost a year and a half ago, he had no idea what would happen. Let alone that he'd meet someone who'd become a new member of the family. And yet, here he was, on the way to the airport, to pick up Jamba, the boy he'd saved from the cruel death at the cocoa plantation.

It didn't take long to befriend the child, yet it seemed impossible for everyone else. In just two months the little orphan was like his own son. And during what seemed like forever when he'd been in hiding, he'd missed the boy almost as much as his ohana back in Hawaii.

He was extremely grateful to hold Jamba in his arms again, to make him smile, to see him being just like other children without the painful past full of violence and death. They both shared the scars on their bodies and souls, but when together, all the pain faded somehow.

That's why Steve's return home left the boy extremely unhappy as Issa described it, no matter how Issa and others tried to help. It was the problem that was keeping Steve awake at nights and made him wonder if he should've stayed over there and helped with the kids. But every time he'd mentioned that, Danny went all-out crazy on him. Until one late afternoon, when they were watching the sunset at his backyard together and Danny broke the silence.

_"Why don't you bring him here?"_

_"What?" Steve raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What are you talking about?"_

_"You know what I'm talking about." Danny met Steve's gaze. "Jamba. I know it bothers you. Why don't you bring him to Hawaii?"_

_Steve stared at the horizon, thinking about the answer. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about that option, but it wouldn't be easy to make that happen. Plus, it would need to be official and he wasn't sure he should be anyone's parent with his dangerous past and a lot of enemies roaming the world._

_"I can't just take the child from his country, Danny."_

_"You could," Danny protested. "If he was your child."_

_Steve shifted his gaze from the horizon to Danny's eyes. His friend was dead serious about it. "I don't think that's a good idea."_

_"Why not? I mean, I saw you two together. I know you like fixing broken things, but this was different. There is something more. Something special between you. Like a bond."_

_"A bond?"_

_"Yeah. You know, like you and me. Plus you basically took care of him while you were there, didn't you? And he doesn't trust anyone but you," Danny didn't back off._

_Steve nodded, knowing what Danny was talking about._

_"So? What's the problem then? I remember you saying you wanted kids. And I'm not sure if you know how biology works, but you either need a woman for that, or…"_

_He didn't get to finish as Steve stopped him before he had a chance to do so. "Wait a minute. You think I won't find a woman?"_

_"I don't know. Maybe one day you'll finally figure out how to talk to women without scaring them off. I'm just saying there is always another option."_

_Steve shook his head. "I don't know, Danny. Maybe it's better for him to stay away from me. You know there are people out there who wouldn't hesitate to use it against me next time I piss someone off."_

_"That's bullshit," Danny said. "He'd be better with you and you both deserve to be happy. Stop holding back because of what might happen. You want something - go get it."_

_Steve smiled at him, then looked back at the sun setting over the horizon, painting a beautiful image on the sky. "I'll think about it."_

_"That's all I ask."_

And now, four months after their conversation, after all the paperwork had been sorted, he was about to reunite with Jamba, who was now officially his son.

He had a son.

The thought was weird and it'd get some time getting used to being a father, but with Danny around, he was sure he'd get all the support he needed. And he was sure Charlie and Jamba will get along great.

They got into Danny's car and Steve turned on the engine, staring at the road ahead.

"Come on, you'll do great." Danny's excitement was over the roof. "And if you ever need help, you've got me, the best father ever. I make a fun uncle too."

Steve burst out into a laugh. "You and fun? That doesn't go together, buddy. Everyone knows I'm the fun guy here."

"I'd be careful with the words if I were you," Danny said. "I'm making pancakes for the kids tonight and you might want some too. As long as you behave, I might consider making a few extra."

Steve turned his head to the right, a big grin on his face. He'd missed Danny for so long and despite all the horrors he'd seen and been through, he was just happy to have him by his side again. To see that even in a year he was still his Danno. And he'd been his annoying self for the past five months.

"I love you, man." Steve held Danny's gaze.

Danny returned his smile. "Love you too. Now drive, or we'll miss the plane's arrival. We don't want to make Jamba wait. He'll be freaked out by his first flight ever anyway, no need to add more stress."

Steve shifted his eyes on the road ahead and sped out of the driveway. It was the road to the unknown. He had no idea what this would bring in the future, but as long as Danny was by his side it didn't matter. Because together, they'd get through anything.

* * *

Paul Roederer sat in the driver's seat of his rental Toyota, cradling the photograph of a man he'd never seen in his hands. He lifted his gaze, comparing the face of the man sitting behind the wheel of the black Camaro along with a short, blonde guy at the passenger's seat, and compared it to the photo. It was definitely the man he'd been looking for.

Roederer closed his eyes for a moment and let his mind wander some time back. He used to have a good life. More than that - a great life. He'd been married to a pretty woman and he'd had a twelve-year-old son with her. He used to spoil them both in a huge mansion in Bern. As the CEO of the number one chocolate company on the market, he used to earn so much that he could easily afford almost anything he and his family had wished for. And it was supposed to get even better after signing the merger with Simon Dietrich.

But the merger has never been signed, and both of their companies suffered a huge hit after that fiasco in Zurich five months ago. The word had spread in the speed of light and no one wanted to support the companies involved in child slavery and funding the war. The police had enough evidence to lock Dietrich up for the rest of his life, but Roederer had been more careful. He'd never spoken to anyone in Africa directly, nor had he ordered a hit to anyone. And thanks to the best lawyers money could buy, the cops couldn't prove he had anything to do with Dietrich's deeds.

But by the time he won the trial, the name of his company had been ruined. The wide public wanted nothing to do with Roederer Chocolate and it cost him millions just in the past four weeks. The company his father and grandfather had built, was now gone. And with it, his wife and a kid, who didn't believe him either. His so-called friends and even his younger brother, who'd been so close to him since childhood, turned his back on him.

His gaze shifted to the photograph, then back at the man laughing in the Camaro on the driveway of the house. Thanks to this man, he became no one. It was his fault he had no one and nothing left in his life and everything he'd worked so hard for was forever gone.

Roederer clenched his teeth, rage rushing through him as he watched the huge smile on the guy's face. The smile he'd sworn will be wiped off his face soon.

Steve McGarrett was the man whose actions had triggered a sequence of the events that had eventually cost him everything. His family's company, his name, his family, his friends. And even if it was the last thing he did, he would make sure to return the favor.

_***THE END*** _


End file.
